Harold followed behind Dumbledore, the two walking in silence across the grounds shrouded in night.
Hagrid hadn't come with them—he believed that now that Dumbledore had returned to the school, there was nothing to worry about. The one coveting the Sorcerer's Stone would surely be dealt with soon.
Fluffy still needed him more. The poor thing must be in pain. Hagrid's heart ached at the thought, and tears began to stream down again.
All because of that despicable little thief. Once Dumbledore caught him, Hagrid swore he'd give the scoundrel a proper thrashing.
While Hagrid stayed behind to tend to Fluffy, Dumbledore and Harold entered the castle and stopped in the entrance hall.
The place was a wreck, thanks to Fluffy.
Twisted staircases hung precariously in midair, shattered marble railings lay scattered, and the portraits on the walls were screaming in panic, fleeing from their frames to find safer ones.
The commotion had drawn out all the professors. Professor McGonagall was the first to approach.
"I already know, Minerva," Dumbledore said before she could speak. "Were any students hurt?"
"Thankfully no. I was relieved to hear that," said McGonagall, her tone sharp. "I've said before—keeping a three-headed dog in the castle would lead to disaster eventually. Thankfully no students were harmed this time."
"In fact, one was," Dumbledore said.
"What?" McGonagall tensed, her voice trembling. "Who? Are they alright?"
"They should be fine. Or you can ask him yourself," Dumbledore said, stepping slightly to the side.
Only then did Professor McGonagall notice Harold behind him.
"Ollivander? You—why are you… Why aren't you in your dormitory?"
"I wasn't out wandering this time! Madam Pomfrey can vouch for me," Harold said quickly, glancing at Dumbledore. Seeing that he wasn't in any rush, Harold calmly began to explain.
"I went to visit Fred and George. On the way back, I heard something on the fourth floor…"
He recounted what had happened.
Dumbledore listened attentively, as did McGonagall.
"I must thank you, Mr. Ollivander," Dumbledore said solemnly. "You lured the three-headed dog out of the castle and helped Hagrid subdue it—preventing a much greater disaster."
"But it was still far too risky. He's just a first-year!" McGonagall scolded, face stern. "Running into open ground is the worst response to a magical beast. You should've used the terrain to wait for staff support."
"I saw Hagrid right then," Harold explained.
McGonagall's expression softened somewhat. Then she suddenly recalled something.
"You just said someone entered that room on the fourth floor? Who was it?"
"I don't know," Harold said, shaking his head. "I didn't see them."
"Professor McGonagall! Headmaster Dumbledore!"
A shrill voice called from nearby, and two more figures came running.
"Granger? Weasley?" McGonagall gasped.
Another pair of Gryffindors?!
"Headmaster—Harry—he—" Ron panted heavily, pointing upstairs.
"He's gone to stall them, hasn't he?" Dumbledore asked.
Both nodded vigorously.
Without another word, Dumbledore raced for the fourth floor. Harold immediately followed.
McGonagall was still talking with the other two and didn't notice Harold's little maneuver, allowing him to slip into the fourth-floor corridor with Dumbledore.
Most of the stairs and railings that had been damaged by Fluffy were already repaired—but the door still lay on the floor.
As they arrived, Professor Flitwick was just preparing to jump into the trapdoor. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹·𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒·𝗇𝗲𝘁
"We'll take it from here, Filius," said Dumbledore.
Though Flitwick looked a bit disappointed, he nodded and stepped aside, returning to his task of repairing the corridor.
"You first?" Dumbledore gestured politely toward the trapdoor.
Harold immediately jumped in.
The tunnel was long, and cold, damp air rushed past his ears. His descent began to slow as something seemed to support him from below, and he landed on the ground like a feather.
Beside him was a mass of thick, writhing vines—like dozens of intertwined octopus arms.
Strangely, he hadn't felt anything when falling through it.
"Devil's Snare," said Dumbledore, who appeared next to him. "I'm sure you could handle it, but we're in a bit of a hurry."
"Come along—this time, I'll lead the way."
Dumbledore quickened his pace.
They pushed open the next door to find a room full of brilliant, jewel-like birds fluttering about.
They were enchanted keys—but only one could unlock the next door.
Dumbledore didn't even pause to look. He walked straight to the opposite door, pulled out a key, and opened it.
"Filius just gave me this one," he said with a smile.
Next up was the massive enchanted chessboard.
But the pieces hadn't yet fully restored themselves after being broken.
"Lucky us—I'm terrible at Wizard's Chess," Dumbledore chuckled, striding across the room.
They reached another door—this one guarding Quirrell's trap.
But inside wasn't the expected troll. Instead, it was a few Red Caps—already unconscious and strewn across the floor.
Dumbledore said nothing, simply walking past them.
He opened the next door, and the moment they crossed the threshold, purple fire erupted behind them. Simultaneously, black flames shot up to block the door ahead.
"Time for a puzzle?" Harold looked at the table with potion bottles.
This was Snape's challenge—one could only pass through the flames by drinking the correct potion.
"That's the proper method, yes. But as I said—we're in a bit of a rush," Dumbledore replied.
A wand had suddenly appeared in his hand. He gave it a casual wave.
The black flames split to either side, revealing a clear path through.
Harold, however, didn't marvel at the magic.
His attention was fixed on the wand in Dumbledore's hand.
[Laurel Wood, Dragon Heartstring, 13 ¼ inches][Status: Fractured, Dormant][Traits: -10% Spell Range; -10% Magic Condensation Speed; +3% Fire-Based Magic Effectiveness]