"Harold, your white dog's coat is really something—so glossy! And look at those eyes—sharp and full of life."

In Diagon Alley, the owner of Eeylops Owl Emporium greeted Harold enthusiastically as he passed by. "Does it have some Crup blood in it?"

"I'm not sure," Harold replied. "I found him near the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. He's smart, that's for sure. As for whether he's got Crup blood… I really couldn't say."

"Looks like it to me," the shopkeeper said, eyeing the large white dog beside Harold with growing interest. "Regular pets don't have that kind of spark in their eyes."

A white Irish wolfhound with Crup ancestry? Not something you saw every day. If she could bring one into her shop, customers would be lining up out the door.

"I've actually got a lovely female hound in the back with Crup blood too. A real beauty. Want to let them meet?" she added with a sly smile.

Perhaps because Harold was only thirteen, she didn't make herself too clear—but she was obviously hoping the two dogs would mate and produce a litter.

"That depends on him," Harold said, glancing down, barely holding back a laugh. Keeping a straight face, he added seriously, "Well? What do you say? I've seen her—she's a Scottish deerhound, and she's gorgeous."

Sirius gave an all-too-human eye-roll and thumped Harold's leg with his thick tail.

It was bad enough Harold had sprayed him white, but now he was being offered up for breeding? Merlin's beard—how did Harold even say stuff like this with a straight face?

He was a wizard, not a real dog!

With a grunt, Sirius gave the leash a strong tug, dragging Harold away.

Harold turned to the shopkeeper and offered a polite smile. "Sorry, Sirius gets shy. Maybe by springtime, he'll feel a bit braver."

"Sirius Black?" The shopkeeper blanched, quickly glancing left and right.

Diagon Alley was packed with holiday shoppers, but she saw no one who looked like the man on the wanted posters.

Only after a moment did she realize—Harold had been talking about the dog.

"Isn't that name… a bit much for a dog?" she asked hesitantly. "I mean, sure, it's satisfying in a way, but I've heard Death Eaters place curses on their names. You might want to give your pet a different one, just in case he shows up looking for revenge."

"Oh no! Sirius Black's going to come after me?" Harold gasped dramatically.

The tug on the leash grew stronger, pulling him into a stumble.

"Thanks for the warning," Harold said cheerfully. "But he only answers to Sirius now…"

The shopkeeper watched the boy and his dog walk off into the crowd, a wistful sigh slipping from her lips.

That dog absolutely had Crup blood—she was sure of it.

In the wizarding world, three magical pets were always in high demand: owls, Crups, and Kneazles.

Everyone knew what owls could do. Crups and Kneazles, meanwhile, had long been beloved by wizarding families.

Purebred ones were expensive though—often close to a hundred Galleons—and feeding them wasn't cheap either. Word had it the Malfoys owned a pure Crup that was fed dragon liver from the apothecary every month. Thirty Galleons just for dog food! And most Ministry employees only made fifty Galleons a month.

Mixed-breeds were much more manageable. They'd eat anything, and they were far cheaper. That made them the top choice for most witches and wizards.

Crup mixes, especially, were loyal, intelligent, and alert. Always bestsellers.

Watching Harold disappear into the crowd, the shopkeeper felt like a whole sack of Galleons had just walked away.

But there was nothing she could do. That dog clearly wasn't interested.

Maybe, as Harold said… it just wasn't the right season yet.

Come to think of it, spring wasn't far off. But Hogwarts would be back in session by then. Would Harold bring the dog back to Diagon Alley?

A pure white Crup mix like that… even if Harold didn't, she wouldn't mind making the trip to Hogwarts herself.

Meanwhile, Sirius dragged Harold down a narrow alley just outside Diagon Alley.

"This should do." Sirius transformed back into his human form.

He looked… cleaner than before. His clothes were blindingly white, his hair too—and with the way he stood, he looked like someone had painted a lamppost and brought it to life.

He glanced down at himself, face full of disdain.

"Couldn't you have picked a different color?"

"I think it's perfect," Harold said with a grin. "At least the shopkeeper didn't recognize you, right?"

"She wouldn't have even if I looked like myself," Sirius muttered, running a hand through his newly dyed white hair in visible annoyance.

He didn't care much about appearances, but this was a bit much. And Harold had had the gall to charge him twenty Galleons for the color spray—stuff that couldn't possibly be worth more than two.

The only upside? At least when they passed through the Leaky Cauldron earlier, no one screamed this time.

"I'll be gone for a few days," Sirius said. "I'll come find you when I'm back."

He was going to get a Christmas gift for Harry. No matter what, he refused to let Harold tag along.

"You sure you don't need help?" Harold asked. "It's not exactly easy for you to get around. No Floo travel, no Knight Bus…"

"I could take you there. And don't worry—I'm not that interested in the location of the Black family house."

Funny thing was, Harold actually did know where it was. But any time he tried to think about it clearly, the memory slipped away.

That was the Fidelius Charm at work. Even if you knew the location, unless the Secret-Keeper told you, it meant nothing.

But… wasn't the Black family house not even the Order's HQ yet? How was the Fidelius already active?

…

"No need," Sirius said, shaking his head. "I'll manage just fine without transport—just like I walked from Azkaban to Hogsmeade."

Well, that was a convincing argument.

Harold gave up, shrugging. He watched as Sirius transformed back into a dog, rolled in the dirt until he looked properly grimy again, then trotted off, vanishing into the bustling crowd.

…

(End of Chapter)