Over the following days, Harold continued working hard to adapt to the sensation of holding a leaf in his mouth—it turned out to be much harder than he'd expected.
Talking wasn't too bad, but mealtimes were a nightmare. He had to stay laser-focused, because the slightest distraction could cause him to chew up the leaf along with his food.
By rough estimate, he'd chewed through at least a dozen leaves over the past two weeks—not Mandrake leaves, of course, but mint leaves of a similar size, which he used for practice. No need to waste such rare resources.
Sleeping was even worse. Eating could at least be controlled—he could eat slower, stick to soups and porridge. But there was no way to consciously control what he did in his sleep. Sometimes, discomfort would cause him to instinctively spit out the leaf. Other times, he'd dream he was eating a cookie and accidentally swallow it.
But Harold had no workaround—Professor McGonagall had told him the process had to be done completely unaided. He had to treat the leaf as part of his body, as if it were an extra tongue or tooth. Orıginal content can be found at 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵※𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾※𝙣𝙚𝙩
If magic or help from someone else was involved, the leaf would immediately become useless.
"Mandrake is a plant of great magical potency," Harold remembered McGonagall telling him.
"Its leaf can record a wizard's magic and bodily traits. With the right spellwork, it forms a conduit between the wizard's body and their future Animagus form."
"And that process must be done entirely alone. If anyone else is involved, or if outside magic interferes, the conduit collapses instantly."
"No shortcuts, Harold. There are no tricks when it comes to becoming an Animagus," she had warned. "Every clever workaround you're thinking of? Someone's already tried it—and failed."
Her expression had been odd when she said that, like she was thinking of someone she knew very well.
Still, her words convinced Harold to give up on shortcuts and just keep pushing through.
His progress was surprisingly solid. He could now keep the leaf in his mouth for three straight days, and eating or attending class was beginning to feel more natural.
One day after class, Harold returned to the Gryffindor common room and was surprised to see Fred and George in the center of a crowd—with a floating ball hovering beside them.
"You actually pulled it off?" Harold asked, nearly spitting out his leaf before quickly clamping his mouth shut.
He knew the twins had been trying to create a magical object similar to the Horcrux Grimoire—something that could float alongside them. They'd asked for his advice more than once.
But Harold hadn't been able to offer much. The Horcrux Grimoire was unique, crafted from rare materials. He couldn't make another even if he wanted to.
Instead, he'd pointed them toward the Hover Charm and the Zombie Glide spell as possible sources of inspiration.
He hadn't expected them to succeed—especially not in under a month.
Though… there was one thing he didn't quite get.
"I know you're both Beaters," Harold said, puzzled, "but is it really necessary to carry around a Bludger? Even turning it into a broomstick would've looked better than this."
Fred and George's grins instantly vanished. They glanced at Harold, then at the floating object beside them. After a long pause, one of them finally said, "You're mistaken. This is a Golden Snitch…"
"That's a terrible joke," Ron cut in before Harold could respond. "That looks nothing like a Snitch. You'd be better off saying it's a Quaffle."
Harry nodded in agreement.
As a Seeker, he could confirm: that thing definitely wasn't a Snitch.
"It is a Snitch!" George insisted. "Look—wings!"
Sure enough, everyone noticed it now. The thing did have wings, though they were tiny and easy to miss.
"This is just the first-gen prototype," Fred said with a shrug. "We're still working on the tech. Eventually, we want it to be the actual size of a Snitch."
"So… what does it do?" Harry asked instinctively. "Can it block spells?"
"Oi! Did you even hear yourself just now?" Fred gave him a look of disbelief. "This is a one-Galleon tracking magic ball, not a hundred-Galleon enchanted cloak."
"Sorry," Harry muttered, a little embarrassed.
Harold sighed softly where he stood.
He'd known it—Harry was terrible at keeping secrets. Not even half a month had passed, and he was already letting things slip. Luckily, no one thought much of it, and Harold had already come up with a better plan.
"Does it have any special functions?" Harold asked, steering the topic back.
"Special functions? Of course!" George said. "It follows you around wherever you go! Isn't that awesome?"
"It's fun, sure. But not very useful," Harold mused. "Puffskeins can do that too. They're cuter, cheaper, and only cost fifteen Sickles at the pet shop in Diagon Alley."
"But this is the best we can do right now," Fred said. "We've tried a bunch of other ideas, but we can't get the Zombie Glide spell to be any more responsive. Forget about something like your flying, page-turning book."
"We could work together," Harold said thoughtfully.
"Work together? You'll let us study the book?" George asked, eyes lighting up.
"That's not happening," Harold said firmly. "It's not that I don't trust you—it's just that you wouldn't be able to understand it."
As he spoke, he reached out and examined the floating "Bludger" closely. "You used oak?"
"And rubber, plus a bit of cowhide," George answered. "Otherwise, the thing splits way too easily."
Harold's interest deepened. "In that case… I might be able to give it a wand core."
Fred and George gasped.
"You mean—like a real wand core?"
"Like the pet wands you made before?"
"Hold on," Harold said, raising a hand. "Even with a wand core, it won't work like a real wand. I doubt it'll cast spells. Maybe it'll glow… or blow some air. Simple magical reactions, at best."
The twins agreed without hesitation.
A floating magic ball that could glow? With a real wand core? They could easily sell it for three Galleons!
Even splitting the profits with Harold, that was still one-and-a-half Galleons apiece. Easy money.
Harold, meanwhile, wasn't focused on profit. His interest was more academic.
Ever since he created the Horcrux Grimoire, he'd had an idea… What if wands didn't have to be wands?
What if they could be something else entirely?
Like a spellbook. A sword. A floating orb.
Sure, he'd experimented with round or curved wands before—but those were still, at their core, sticks. The Grimoire was the first magical "wand" he'd made that wasn't stick-shaped at all. It was, quite literally, a book.
This deviation had been necessary. Merlin had streamlined ancient spellcasting into wand-based magic, and so wooden wands had become the best medium for it.
You could even see this in the Grimoire—it provided no power amplification whatsoever.
Harold wanted to change that.
He wanted to make things that could still work within modern magic, but weren't bound to the shape of a stick: spellbooks, magic swords, enchanted orbs…
Even if he lacked the best wand woods, he could make up for that by using superior wand cores—and he had the unique ability to craft wand cores from any magic-bearing object. No one else could do that.
It would be a long road—but Harold wasn't in a hurry. He was only in second year.
He could start small… and the twins' floating gadget was perfect for practice.
Besides, if it sold well, he'd earn some pocket money too. And if floating magic gadgets became popular, then pulling out his own magic book wouldn't seem strange at all.