After parting ways with the Weasley twins, Harold knew the Halloween feast was just about to begin.
By now, most professors and students were gathered in the Great Hall—there wasn't a soul to be seen outside.
Turning away from the entrance to the Hall, Harold headed quickly toward the staircase. As he passed the entrance to the dungeons, he caught a whiff of something foul and heard a low, distant rumble.
Clearly, the troll had already been let loose. Time was short.
Without hesitation, Harold picked up the pace and dashed upstairs. The stairs cooperated for once, and within minutes, he was on the third floor.
"Damn you again, you mangy cat—get out of here, scram!"
Far above, he could hear the yowling of a cat and Filch's frustrated shouts echoing down the corridor.
Harold seized the moment and bolted for the fourth floor.
This time, there was no resistance. He reached the locked door with ease.
Pulling out his wand, he tapped the lock.
As expected—no way McGonagall would guard this door in Animagus form and then leave it vulnerable to a basic unlocking spell.
Harold quickly pocketed his wand and pulled a small, green twig-like creature from his robes. A Bowtruckle—borrowed from Hagrid.
As a wandmaker, Harold had learned to handle these creatures from a young age.
After bribing it with two beetle larvae, the Bowtruckle wriggled into the keyhole.
The door creaked open. Harold exhaled in relief.
Thankfully, Dumbledore probably hadn't anticipated anyone getting this far. Only a single anti-unlocking charm had been placed on the door. If it had been any more secure, Harold would've had to turn back empty-handed.
He pushed the door open swiftly.
Even though he had mentally prepared himself, the sight of the ten-foot-tall, elephant-sized three-headed dog behind the door still made Harold's legs go weak.
Three pairs of wild eyes immediately locked onto him.
Three slavering mouths opened wide, drool stretching in thick, yellow ropes from jagged teeth.
The dog froze for a moment, surprised by the sudden intruder. But in the next second, all three heads let out a thunderous roar.
Without a moment's hesitation, Harold ripped open the brown paper bag he'd gotten from the twins, revealing a shoddy-looking toy.
It was indeed a toy—Baruo the Bard, a crude harp-playing doll reminiscent of a Muggle music box. While not as famous as The Tales of Beedle the Bard, it was a familiar childhood toy to many wizarding children.
Unwrapped, the little harpist immediately began plucking its strings, playing a cheerful tune.
The howling ceased instantly.
The monstrous dog's eyes began to droop. It swayed on its paws a few times before slumping to the floor with a massive thud, snoring deeply.
Harold wiped his hands, steadying his breath, and crept forward.
Even lying down, the beast was the size of a small hill. Its breath was hot and foul—Harold gagged, but pressed on.
Circling behind it, he gripped its tail and yanked hard.
The beast twitched violently. Harold's heart nearly leapt out of his chest.
Patting his chest in relief, Harold continued. He plucked a few tufts of fur from behind the ears, the forelegs, and even near its jawline—where the fur was thickest.
Still asleep. Gaining confidence, Harold reached into one of the beast's open mouths and grabbed a three-inch-long tooth.
It wouldn't come loose by hand. But Harold had another plan. He only had one shot at this.
He opened the door fully, prepping an escape route. He grabbed the toy, wiping away traces of his presence.
Then, he pulled a half-finished wand from his robes. The wand's core was exposed—its shaft unfinished.
"Forgive me, Fluffy," Harold murmured. "I'll make it up to you later."
He slid the wand into the gap between the creature's teeth and completed the final enchantment.
The wand exploded, the blast rocking the room.
All three heads let out a bloodcurdling scream of agony.
Even a magical beast as tough as a Cerberus had soft spots. An explosion right inside its mouth? Devastating.
Several massive teeth were blown free on impact.
Harold snatched two out of the air and sprinted for the exit, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it again with practiced ease. Fresh chapters posted on 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹•𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖•𝗇𝗲𝘁
Inside, the beast roared and thrashed, the echoes reverberating down the hall.
Harold leaned against the door, panting hard.
Cherry wood and redcap sinew… what a volatile combo.
Dangerous? Absolutely.
Harold opened his hands. Each held a dog tooth the size of his palm.
He felt a twinge of guilt. Poor Fluffy had taken quite the hit. He'd make it up to him—maybe sneak him a nice steak or something. Assuming the school actually fed him.
But that was for later. He needed to get out before someone came to investigate the noise.
He turned—and immediately felt the urge to swear out loud.
Standing at the far end of the corridor, nearly twelve feet tall and reeking to high heaven, was a mountain troll.
In his hyper-focused state, he hadn't noticed the foul smell earlier. But now it was unmistakable.
And worse—the troll had noticed him, too.
With a grunt, it began charging forward, raising its club high.
Behind him was Fluffy. Ahead, the troll. Harold was trapped.
Harold slapped the lock with his palm.
Thankfully, the Bowtruckle was still inside.
And it had also spotted the charging troll. Triggered by its survival instincts, it undid the lock faster than before.
Harold yanked the door open and snatched his pointy wizard's hat from his robes.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The hat flew through the air and landed perfectly over the troll's face.
Blinded, the troll stumbled, panicked. But it was already mid-charge.
The lumbering giant tripped forward, lost its footing, and went crashing headlong through the open door—
—right into the room with the furious, injured, and now wide-awake Fluffy.