Sirius considered himself lucky. Ever since he'd pledged loyalty to a stray cat, he'd eaten his fill for the first time in weeks—and even bathed in the Black Lake using that miraculous stain remover, scrubbing off all the fleas and lice clinging to his fur.
Sure, being a wizard and willingly becoming a street cat's lackey was a little embarrassing, but to Sirius, that didn't matter.
After all, he looked like a dog now. As long as he didn't change back, who'd ever know he was actually a wizard?
And that cat was clever—he always managed to find food. Even the scraps left over were enough to fill Sirius's stomach, a massive upgrade from the days when he barely ate once in three.
Most importantly, the cat could seemingly come and go from Hogwarts Castle as it pleased—exactly what Sirius needed.
He wanted to get inside the castle and kill that rat who should've died long ago—the one who'd betrayed Lily and James.
But the castle wasn't like the grounds. He couldn't just waltz in, not looking the way he did now.
A large black dog... that was a red flag if there ever was one. He'd never get inside without raising alarms.
Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick… any of them spotting him could blow everything.
So Sirius had been waiting for the perfect moment, a chance to slip inside unnoticed.
And those two cats gave him hope.
If following them meant entry, he'd do anything—play dead, get caught by Dementors, even... become a cat's follower. Whatever it took.
And tonight was perfect.
Halloween. There'd be a feast in the Great Hall. Every professor, even Dumbledore, would be there. That meant the corridors would be empty. All he had to do was follow the cats in and find Peter.
But before Sirius could act, something utterly unexpected happened.
He met a student—maybe thirteen—who had already mastered Animagus transformation, completely shattering the one piece of pride Sirius had left.
He slumped down, eyes glazed. Crookshanks, looking puzzled, padded over and patted his head gently, as if to console him.
Harold saw the whole thing.
He first spotted the distinct ginger blur that was Crookshanks, then caught sight of a black dog lurking nearby, blending into the shadows.
Harold froze. He hadn't expected to see Sirius here of all places.
And he didn't even look that filthy—still skinny, sure, but his coat was clean and sleek, like he'd just bathed.
As if on cue, Tom turned to him, confused by the lack of a greeting, then followed Harold's gaze and noticed Sirius.
Without hesitation, Tom marched over and smacked Sirius right across the muzzle with a paw.
He growled lowly and pointed a claw toward Harold, clearly instructing the big dog: That's my boss's boss. Show some respect.
And sure enough, the black dog instantly flopped onto its back and exposed its belly.
Smooth. Seamless. Absolutely practiced.
Harold stared, lips twitching. If it were just a regular dog, this would've been funny.
But he knew this was no dog.
This was a grown wizard. A grown wizard who had just watched him transform from cat to human.
Should he... silence him?
His fingers brushed against the serpent-eyed ring on his hand.
No—Sirius wouldn't report him. That wasn't his style. Besides, Sirius himself was also an unregistered Animagus.
"You picked up a new follower?" Harold asked Tom, pretending nothing was out of the ordinary.
Tom nodded, then gave Sirius another shove.
Sirius sprang up and trotted over, tail low, eyes wide, and expression utterly docile.
Honestly, for someone who'd escaped Azkaban, he sure knew how to play the part. His movements, posture—downright canine.
"Looks healthy," Harold muttered, patting Sirius on the head.
Too bony. His skull jutted under the fur. Not great to the touch.
The whole time, the dog panted happily, big black eyes gazing up adoringly.
Was he really going to commit to this?
An idea sparked in Harold's mind.
"Oh right, I didn't know I'd run into Tom today, so I didn't bring any gifts," he said casually, patting his pockets. "Tell you what—when Tom made Fang his follower, I gave him a big bag of treats. I'll do the same for you. Sound good?"
Sirius nodded enthusiastically. Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs 𝖓𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑~𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖾~𝖓𝖊𝖙
Tom's catches were filling, sure, but they were raw. Cats didn't cook or season. They just ate things alive.
He was fine with that, being a dog—but treats? Oh yes. Something salty. Maybe some jerky…
"I'll send them over tomorrow," Harold said. "Tom will bring you two pounds of Mooncalf dung."
Sirius froze, neck halfway through a nod.
What did he just say?
"Yup, you heard right." Harold grinned. "Two whole pounds of precious, nutrient-rich Mooncalf manure. Fang loved it. He was so happy he practically danced."
"Woof…" Sirius let out a helpless bark.
Too bad Harold's Animagus form wasn't canine—he had no clue what Sirius was trying to say.
Tom, however, did seem to understand.
With a snarl, he launched into Sirius, clawing and biting like he was settling a serious score. Sirius yelped, flailing helplessly.
He didn't used to be … was it the name?
Before Harold could finish the thought, Tom turned and meowed softly at him.
Translation: Don't worry, boss. Just disciplining my underling.
Ah, now that made sense. Tom hadn't changed. Sirius had just said something rude.
Harold had offered a gift and got barked at. Rude indeed.