Harold had no idea that Harry and the others were already plotting something involving the Chamber of Secrets. His sudden departure earlier had nothing to do with them—it was for another reason entirely.
By the time he made it back to the dormitory, the last rays of sunlight were just slipping below the horizon. Without hesitation, Harold pulled out his wand, aimed it at his heart, and quietly recited:
"Amato, Animo, Animato, Animagus."
This was the second step in becoming an Animagus. At sunrise and sunset each day, he had to point his wand at his heart and speak the incantation.
That's why Harold had rushed back to the dormitory earlier—he'd realized the sun was just about to set.
That familiar heartbeat sound returned to his ears—but this time, there was something else.
It was faint, like the sound of a raindrop falling from a leaf and splashing into a puddle amid a downpour. Nearly imperceptible under the steady rhythm, but it was there.
Harold was certain he had heard it—another heartbeat. Yet when he focused intently, it vanished again, like it had never been there at all.
And just like that, the spell's effect faded, and everything around him returned to normal.
But Harold was thrilled. He was sure it hadn't been his imagination. Faint as it was, he had truly heard a second heartbeat.
That sound marked the heartbeat of his Animagus form—the critical sign of progress in the second phase.
Only after hearing this second heartbeat could one be sure the mandrake leaf had formed the correct "connection." Without it, continuing would be pointless.
Though the heartbeat was still weak now, he knew that with persistence—repeating the incantation at sunrise and sunset—it would grow stronger.
The realization made Harold almost giddy, which left Harry completely bewildered when he came up to the dormitory.
He had assumed Harold had stormed off earlier because he was angry, but now…
Watching Harold grin to himself every so often, Harry began to doubt that idea—he didn't look upset at all.
"What's up?" Harold asked, seeing Harry standing there dumbfounded. "Did you need something?"
"No—well, yes…" Harry hesitated, but then blurted out, "Can you tell me where the Chamber of Secrets is?"
"No," Harold replied simply. "I promised Professor Dumbledore I wouldn't tell anyone."
Just as Ron had predicted.
"And besides," Harold added, "it wouldn't help you anyway. The place is sealed by the Headmaster's magic. Even if you knew where it was, you couldn't get in."
"I was just… curious," Harry muttered, then quickly turned and left.
Harold didn't give it another thought.
The next day, he could hardly wait to tell Professor McGonagall what had happened.
He wasn't prepared for how stunned she would be. She jumped to her feet the moment he mentioned it.
"You heard a second heartbeat?" she repeated in disbelief, staring at Harold as though he'd just told her Snape was a witch and had awarded Gryffindor two hundred points.
"Yes," Harold nodded calmly.
McGonagall studied his face, trying to spot any hint of a lie.
There was none—because it was true.
Last night, the second heartbeat had been faint, but this morning it was much clearer. Two heartbeats—one strong, one gentle—beating in an oddly synchronized rhythm.
After listening to Harold's description, McGonagall was even more astonished.
"How long has it been since you started the incantation?" she asked.
"About half a month," Harold replied.
"Half a month… and you already heard the second heartbeat?" McGonagall sat back down, dazed.
That was roughly how long it had taken her when she first learned Animagus transformation. Actually—Harold had done it three days faster.
McGonagall didn't mean to underestimate Harold, but truth be told, his transfiguration aptitude wasn't exactly outstanding.
If academic marks were a gauge, his transfiguration talent rated an "E" for Exceeds Expectations—not quite the top mark of "O" for Outstanding.
And the difference between E and O wasn't trivial. Even if it was just one question on a test, the meaning was entirely different.
Take herself, for instance—McGonagall had mastered turning a matchstick into a needle after seeing it once. By the end of her first year, she had already finished A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, and by second year she was working on Intermediate and even Advanced texts, including human transfiguration.
Though Harold had followed a similar track this year, he had poured all his time into transfiguration—often at the expense of other subjects.
More than one professor had complained that he was always reading transfiguration books in their classes, costing Gryffindor quite a few points.
"Come to my office at sunset," McGonagall finally said, still skeptical.
"No problem," Harold replied.
That evening, he didn't even stop by the dormitory after dinner. He went straight to her office, and then followed her to the Astronomy Tower.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Harold raised his wand to his heart and spoke the words again.
"Amato, Animo, Animato, Animagus."
Clear as ever—two distinct heartbeats.
McGonagall couldn't hear them, but as an Animagus herself, she could sense the magical resonance—two interwoven but distinct magical signatures in perfect sync.
In her Animagus form, a tabby cat, that resonance became even more apparent.
It was real. Harold had truly done it. This wasn't a joke.
It was strange… Why did Harold's talent for transfiguration suddenly leap from E to O when he was studying Animagus magic?
The thought flickered through her mind—then faded into a warm sense of pride.
Officially, the youngest registered Animagus in history was nineteen. But McGonagall knew of unregistered cases that were younger—one as young as fifteen.
Still, that didn't matter. Harold was only in second year, and he was well on track to shatter that record… assuming a thunderstorm arrived within the next three years.
Which it would—sooner or later, it had to.
Once the incantation's effect ended, Harold opened his eyes to find that McGonagall had returned to her human form.
"Come with me," she said, leading him back to her office.
She no longer cared why his transfiguration talent had suddenly surged. The second heartbeat meant he was halfway there. He couldn't afford to slow down now.
"I'll recommend a few more books," she said, pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment and jotting down a list in neat handwriting before signing her name at the bottom.
"These are all in the Restricted Section. Keep this pass safe—don't let anyone else see it."
Harold glanced at the list: seven titles, each more ominous than the last. At the bottom was her signature—and for the return date, she had simply drawn a long dash.
"I've also gathered some excellent papers on human transfiguration. You should study those too," she said, heading toward the adjoining study.
Out of habit, she shut the door behind her.
"Until the next thunderstorm, you must study and master as much transfiguration as possible—"
As the door clicked shut, her voice vanished.
Professor offices were really well soundproofed. Much better than the dormitories—sometimes he could still hear snoring through the walls up there.
That thought sparked something in his mind.
Harry had once told him that, while helping Lockhart write letters, he could hear the man muttering to himself in the next room.
This was a professor's office too—and McGonagall's voice had been completely blocked.
So how had Harry heard Lockhart talking to himself in his office? For more chapters visıt 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⚫𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖⚫𝕟𝕖𝕥