Because he'd forgotten to buy his school supplies, Harold had no choice but to put aside his rune formula research and follow Harry and the others to Diagon Alley's main street.
The closest shop to Ollivanders was Flourish and Blotts. Just a quick turn out of the alley and a short walk brought them there.
But this year, the bookstore was noticeably different. The gilded, thick tomes usually displayed proudly were nowhere to be seen. In their place stood a giant iron cage packed with dozens of feral-looking books.
These books were… odd. Four glossy black eyes stared from each cover, and the spines bristled with sixteen bean-sized fangs. They crawled sideways like some kind of demented crabs, lashing out at each other without mercy when they got too close.
Shreds of paper flew around inside the cage. The shop assistant outside looked just as torn—his eyes lifeless as he mechanically jabbed a stick through the bars, trying in vain to break up the brawls.
Judging by the heap of snapped sticks nearby, it wasn't going well.
As they stepped into the shop, the assistant finally approached.
"Hogwarts, yeah? You here for the new textbooks?"
"Yes," Hermione replied. "We need three copies of The Monster Book of Monsters—"
"Three?" The man's face twitched uncontrollably, his mouth and fingers trembling as if he were on the verge of tears.
"Alright then. Step back, all of you. Better stand well clear," he muttered, pulling on a pair of thick gloves and hefting a heavy club, looking like he was heading to war.
"Wait," Harold called out. "I already have a copy, so we only need two."
He'd suddenly remembered the large package Hagrid had sent him earlier. He hadn't looked closely at it, but judging by the size and shape, it was most likely The Monster Book of Monsters.
Even without Riddle's diary as proof, Hagrid had still been cleared of blame, it seemed. Harold figured Dumbledore must've handled it during the holidays. Even just the dead basilisk would've been enough to turn the tide.
Hermione and Ron didn't think much of it—Harold lived in Diagon Alley, after all. It made sense he'd already picked up a copy.
But the shop assistant looked visibly relieved. He brightened so much that after Harold bought the rest of his books, he even gave him a small discount.
It wasn't much, but it was enough to buy four single-scoop ice creams.
Harold figured if Hermione had gotten the discount instead, they might have gone for triple scoops.
She had bought a lot of books, enough to fill an entire heavy bag.
To make things easier, Harold suggested they leave their books at the wand shop for now and collect them later. No one objected—it was exhausting lugging everything around.
Next, they headed off to buy potions ingredients.
Some of the rarer components would be provided by Snape in class, but common ones like lionfish spine powder, dittany leaves, and sneezewort were the students' responsibility.
Thankfully, these were inexpensive. Harold bought a large batch for just six silver Sickles.
Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was another essential stop. After the summer, Harold's school trousers and sleeves had all become too short. He definitely needed new uniforms.
While Harold was having his height measured, Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't just stand around—they wandered into Eeylops Owl Emporium.
Hermione had said she wanted to buy herself an owl as a present.
But when Harold arrived at the pet shop, robes in hand, he found Hermione crouching on the floor, staring intently at a large ginger cat.
Harry and Ron were nowhere to be seen.
"I want this one," Hermione said suddenly, standing up. "How much?"
"You really want Crookshanks?" The shopkeeper's eyes lit up, barely able to hide his excitement. "I mean—he's been here for ages. No one's ever wanted him."
If anything, that only made Hermione more determined. "Yes, I like this cat."
"Three Galleons!" the shopkeeper said quickly, as if afraid she'd change her mind. "You've got a sharp eye. Crookshanks has a quarter Kneazle blood. That price is a real bargain."
"Hmm?" Hermione paused—not because it was too expensive, but because it was suspiciously cheap.
She remembered seeing the prices for other pets. Even cats with just one-sixteenth Kneazle heritage cost five Galleons.
A quarter? That usually ran over ten—just a bit cheaper than a quality owl.
Three Galleons wouldn't even buy a decent toad.
"Alright," she agreed. She didn't know why it was so cheap, but saving money was never a bad thing.
The transaction went so quickly it was like the universe itself wanted it to happen. One moment Crookshanks was behind a pane of glass, and the next he was in Hermione's arms.
She turned—and saw Harold just walking into the shop.
"Perfect timing!" she beamed, lifting the cat with effort. "This is Crookshanks!"
It looked like a bit of a struggle. The cat was huge. Lifting him took work.
"I know him. Saw him a long time ago," Harold said, staring at the familiar squashed face.
Honestly, Crookshanks looked even flatter than before—like someone had stepped on a soda can.
"Oh, right!" Hermione realized. "You live around here. Of course you've been to this pet shop."
"Not regularly. Two years ago," Harold replied. "When I bought Tom, Crookshanks was already here. Just a kitten back then."
"Tom?" Hermione blinked. "Wait—your cat Tom? From first year? That means Crookshanks has been here for two years?"
She hugged Crookshanks, rubbing her cheek against his fur. The ginger cat, however, kept staring at Harold.
"Yes, I was the one who bought Tom," Harold said, reaching over to pet Crookshanks' head.
He knew this cat could understand him—Tom had Kneazle blood too, and understood plenty. Sometimes, he even pretended not to—just so he could act innocent after getting into trouble.
"So that means Tom and Crookshanks were friends a long time ago, right?" Hermione said excitedly. "That's wonderful! They can meet again at Hogwarts."
"Honestly? I don't think that's such a good thing," Harold muttered.
Tom had a tendency to… eat his coworkers. Judging by Crookshanks' size, Harold suspected he had a similar past.
If those two were left alone together, who knew what would happen?
Lately, his usual threats hadn't worked on Tom either. Harold couldn't actually turn him into wand core material, after all.
And Tom probably knew it. The only reason he hadn't gone on a rampage through the castle was out of respect for Harold—and maybe because the food in the Forbidden Forest was meatier and more satisfying.
But if Crookshanks got added to the mix, things might get messy.
Harold glanced again at the squashed-faced cat, silently praying for the safety of all the castle's small pets.
…
(End of Chapter)