Chapter 31: Oh, Thank You So Much

Let's set aside, for a moment, the heartwarming camaraderie among colleagues—Dumbledore was starting to feel a little overwhelmed by Hagrid's watery, pitiful expression. With a casual wave of his wand, he finally cast a sleep spell to calm the frenzied Fluffy. After all, none of this was really the three-headed dog's fault. There was no need to keep it suspended in chains. Following Dumbledore's cue, Professor McGonagall released the bindings. "Th-thank you... thank you so much..." Hagrid sniffled, wiping his tears as he lumbered over to remove the chains. As he worked, Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. He'd noticed something caught between the middle mouth's jagged teeth. "What's that?" he asked. Alerted, Hagrid plucked it out and turned it over in his massive fingers. "Cloth? Looks like... a piece of the troll's clothes?" "Trolls don't wear clothes," Snape said flatly. "O-oh, right. Sorry, Professor Snape." Hagrid quickly handed the tattered scrap over to Dumbledore. With a tap of his wand, Dumbledore muttered, "Reparo." The cloth shimmered. Other scraps fluttered in from the room, attaching themselves to the central piece like iron filings to a magnet. Before long, a complete item had reassembled itself. "A pointed hat from a school uniform?" McGonagall frowned. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head. "No... no, it can't be. We arrived immediately after hearing the noise. If a student had left the feast, I would've noticed." She turned to Professor Flitwick, who had just arrived. Flitwick caught her meaning instantly. "I kept a close eye on the upper floors. No one left, I'm sure of it." "What about Mr. Ollivander?" Dumbledore asked calmly. "I heard he never showed up for the feast." "Harold Ollivander?" Flitwick blinked, then nodded slowly. "He was there eventually. Helped calm down some students too—I remember clearly." "Where was he?" "Second floor. Near the library." "Ah," Snape said with a chilling sneer. "So Potter lied. Just like his father—arrogant, dishonest, full of—" "Severus," Dumbledore interrupted gently. Snape scowled but fell silent. "Shall we inspect the students' hats?" McGonagall offered, steering the conversation away. "No need," Dumbledore said, waving a hand. "A common pointed hat, likely just snagged in the chaos. Nothing to fuss over." Indeed, such hats were standard issue at Hogwarts. They were everywhere. Someone losing one in the scramble wouldn't be unusual—and the original owner likely hadn't even realized it was missing. Snape stepped forward. "Perhaps I should visit the hospital wing. I'll prepare a potent calming draught for Professor Quirrell. With luck, we might extract something useful." Among all the staff present, only Snape's motivation remained unshaken—he just wanted to catch Quirrell out. And whether or not that "calming draught" contained anything... extra? Well, let's just say: officially, it didn't. Still, Dumbledore didn't give his approval. After a final sweep of the area, confirming nothing else of importance remained, the group gradually dispersed—leaving Hagrid behind to tend to the wounded Fluffy. — Meanwhile, in Gryffindor Tower... "When did you get back?!" Harry practically shouted, staring at Harold, who sat cross-legged in a fireside chair, flipping through a book like nothing had happened. "I came back with everyone else," Harold replied calmly. "Actually, I was about to ask you where you'd gone—no one saw you in the hall." "We went to find you! We wanted to warn you about the troll!" Harry said. "You went together?" Harold raised an eyebrow at him, then at Ron and Hermione. "Since when did you three become such good friends?" "Who's friends with her?" Ron huffed instantly. "If she hadn't begged McGonagall to spare Harry, we wouldn't be anywhere near her." "I was simply stating facts!" Hermione glared at him. "You think I wanted to walk around with you?" Harold looked between the two of them, bemused. Eventually, Harry filled him in on everything that had happened. Turns out, before the Halloween feast, Hermione had gone to McGonagall and explained what really happened during flying class—that it was Malfoy who started it, and Harry had only intervened to protect Neville's Remembrall. Whether she stuck strictly to the truth or embellished a bit was unclear, but it worked: Harry's punishment was lifted. Then, during the Halloween feast, when Quirrell stormed in yelling about the troll, the three had remembered Harold was still out there—and had left together to find him. To be fair, Harold was a little touched. Maybe it was Gryffindor spirit, maybe not—but they had come looking. And not just that—they hadn't said a word to any professors either, even with a troll loose in the castle. Now that was commitment. Harry even patted his chest proudly. "Don't worry, McGonagall only docked our house points. She didn't blame you at all." Wait, what? Harold's smile froze. "She didn't... dock my points? You mean... she knew I wasn't at the feast?" "Of course," Ron said like it was obvious. "We explained it to her. You were late and didn't know about the troll." "Oh. Wow. Thank you so much," Harold said blankly. Yeah, no. That warm, fuzzy feeling? Gone. Just gone. Harold sighed deeply. Ten minutes ago, he had successfully slipped through a secret passage—courtesy of Fred and George's map—returned via a side route, and melted seamlessly into the student crowd. He'd even made sure Flitwick spotted him. It had been perfect. Now it was all for nothing. Ah well, what could he do? Worst case, the professors found out. So what? He'd technically helped resolve the troll situation, hadn't he? No way they'd dock points for that. And the injured dog? That was the troll's fault—clearly nothing to do with him. Right? ...Right. (End of Chapter)