Professor McGonagall's warning had an immediate effect. Within a minute, the crowd of students who had gathered for the spectacle had completely scattered from the corridor.
Harold spotted the culprits behind the commotion. Read complete versıon only at 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⟡𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕥⟡𝕟𝕖𝕥
Ron and Malfoy—each being held up off the ground by one arm like a pair of kittens by Hagrid—glared daggers at each other.
Beside them were Harry, Crabbe, and Goyle. All three had rumpled robes, clearly from a scuffle. They had probably only stopped because Professor McGonagall had arrived.
But… was Harry really that tough? He'd taken on both Crabbe and Goyle—who, frankly, looked like third-years with how massive they were compared to everyone else.
"I want an explanation!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, sharp as a whip and full of barely restrained fury.
"It was Malfoy, Professor," Hagrid said as he set the two boys down. "He insulted Ron's family—used some real nasty words."
"I—I only told the truth!" Malfoy snapped. "And Weasley hit me in the face! He started it!"
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Professor McGonagall said coldly, without even blinking.
"No, Professor, that's not true!" Ron turned red with frustration. "He's lying!"
Across from him, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle smirked smugly—until a second later.
"Ten points from Slytherin!"
Their grins froze instantly, expressions souring like they'd just bitten into a chocolate frog filled with slugs.
"Wait, Professor—you must be mistaken!" Malfoy protested. "Everyone saw it! He hit me first!"
"I know exactly what's going on here," Professor McGonagall said, her tone cold and final. "And I believe all of you do as well. If you think I've been unfair, feel free to speak to Professor Snape."
Faced with her stern gaze, Malfoy clenched his jaw but kept silent.
"Excellent." She gave a curt nod. "Hagrid, we've been waiting for you. The Great Hall still needs that last tree."
"Sorry, Professor, I'm on it now." Hagrid hoisted a large silver fir and followed her out of the corridor.
That tree would be the centerpiece of the Great Hall's Christmas decorations.
"You'll pay for this, Weasley," Malfoy spat once McGonagall was gone. "You'll regret it."
"We're out of here," he added, and shoved past Harry, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him like bodyguards.
"Look at him," Ron muttered, watching Malfoy's retreating back. He raised his fists and shook them. "If Hagrid hadn't grabbed me, I'd have flattened him."
Harry said nothing, still massaging his arm.
Crabbe and Goyle had serious strength—if some other Gryffindors hadn't jumped in, he probably would've spent Christmas in the hospital wing.
"You guys okay?" Hermione hurried over.
"Fine," Harry said. "McGonagall got there just in time."
Then his gaze shifted—toward the dungeons.
"Good thing you called her. If Snape had shown up, he would've taken points from us and let Malfoy off with a pat on the back."
"It's over now," Hermione said. "Anyway, you should see the Great Hall. It's amazing—I don't even have the words to describe it!"
"You guys go ahead," Harry said, giving her a wink before bolting.
Honestly, both Ron and Hermione were stunned. Neither of them had any idea what had just happened.
"What's up with him?" Ron asked.
"No idea," Hermione said, just as confused. "Did he just wink at me?"
"Forget it. Let's just go."
Meanwhile, Harry had already climbed the stairs and reached the Fat Lady's portrait. There, just outside the Gryffindor common room, he caught up with Harold, who was on his way back from the dungeons.
After McGonagall's arrival earlier, Harold had tucked away his wand and slipped off quietly with the rest of the crowd.
The Weasley twins had vanished even faster—like staying a second too long would get them banned from the Quidditch pitch for life.
"Harry?" Harold turned back. "What's up?"
"I want to buy a wand," Harry said.
"…What?" Harold blinked, and then his eyes lit up. "You've got taste! Come on!"
He practically dragged Harry through the portrait hole, shoved him down into a comfy armchair, and darted upstairs to the dorms.
"Just wait a minute! I'll be right back!"
"I—wait, no, I—" Harry tried to explain, but Harold had already vanished.
Five minutes later, Harold returned to the common room, carrying a tray filled with a dozen or more… wands?
Harry wasn't even sure that's what they were.
One looked like a steering wheel.
Others had shapes and curves he'd never seen in Ollivander's.
"I recommend this one—triple magic, triple joy," Harold said, pointing to the round one. "Or you can test a few and see what fits. If none of these work, I've got a 2.5-foot wand in the works you can pre-order."
"…How much is that one?" Harry asked, already regretting this.
They were talking about wands, right? Not bludger bats?
Feet? Was that normal?
"Wait, I love my current wand—I don't need a new one," Harry quickly said. "I want the one with the redcap nerve core."
Harold paused, and a realization dawned.
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I've been planning to give it to him for Christmas."
"If you'd told me earlier, I would've set it aside," Harold sighed.
"I wanted it to be a surprise," Harry said.
Harold gave a dry chuckle. "Well, it's definitely a surprise—just not for Ron."
"If it's about the price, I've got the money—see?" Harry pulled out seven Galleons, perfectly counted.
"No, it's not about the money," Harold said. "It's the wand. I sent it back to the shop two months ago."
"What?" Harry froze, Galleons still in hand. "You mean it's in Diagon Alley?"
"Could be. Or maybe somewhere else." Harold sighed. "Honestly… I'm not sure where it is right now."