Harry had always thought he knew plenty about magic and the wizarding world.
From owls delivering letters, to Hagrid showing up at the seaside hut, to Diagon Alley, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and Hogwarts itself—Harry had taken it all in stride. He thought he'd gotten used to the magical world.
But now he suddenly felt like he didn't know anything at all. Not even wands.
"That was definitely a baseball bat, right?" Harry looked blankly at Ron after Harold left the common room.
He was still thinking about what Harold had said yesterday… "There's another two-and-a-half-foot wand I haven't finished yet, but it's available for pre-order."
So that's what he meant?
Harry didn't think Harold was joking about something like that, and he'd tried to connect the words "feet" and "wand" in his head—but it just didn't work.
"I'm telling you, Harold was definitely messing with us," Ron said.
Unlike Harry, Ron had grown up with magic, and a lot of his knowledge had long since solidified into unquestioned facts.
Wands, in his mind, looked a certain way—maybe a bit longer or shorter, but still in that same basic shape. Everyone he knew had a wand like that. No exceptions.
So as far as Ron was concerned, there was no way that thing was a wand. Harold was just having a laugh.
"Wanna play wizard chess?" Ron asked, popping the last roasted mushroom into his mouth.
"Uh, sure," Harry said. His mind was a tangled mess—he could use the distraction.
"But I've never played wizard chess before."
"No problem, I'll teach you. It's easy," Ron said, pulling out a battered old chess set and showing Harry how to move the pieces.
It was just like Muggle chess—except all the pieces were alive, and had a mind of their own. That made it so much more fun, like commanding a tiny army.
Harry was quickly hooked. He wasn't very good, though. He kept losing to Ron. Eventually, even his own queen couldn't take it anymore and smacked him on the hand with her club.
Harry's fingers turned red instantly, and he teared up from the pain. The queen was still yelling at him.
"Idiot! Moron! Empty-headed mountain troll!"
That was the downside to wizard chess: the pieces had serious attitude.
Meanwhile, Harold had arrived at Hagrid's hut.
He knocked, but didn't hear Hagrid's familiar booming voice.
"No one home?" He waited a bit longer. Still nothing. It seemed Hagrid really wasn't in.
Probably off drinking in Hogsmeade.
Hagrid had a habit of popping into Hogsmeade for a pint or two, and plenty of the professors did the same. Today was the first day of the holidays, snow was falling—a perfect excuse to relax. Hagrid wouldn't miss it.
Which meant Harold had come all this way for nothing—trudging through the snow both ways.
He'd hoped to finish his wand today, but now he'd have to wait.
He didn't use Alohomora to break in, even though it would've been easy for him, and even though Hagrid wouldn't have minded. Still, Harold chose not to. He wasn't in a rush.
The holiday had just begun.
"Okay, now I'm in a rush!" Harry was pacing around Harold's dorm, glancing out the window every few seconds.
"Christmas is tomorrow, and I've got nothing ready! If Hedwig doesn't make it back, I'll have to give Ron a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans!"
"That doesn't sound so bad," Harold said. "Though… where did you even get them? From an older student in Hogsmeade?"
"No, I bought them on the train," Harry said.
"The Hogwarts Express?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded.
"And you still haven't finished them?"
"I don't like the shoe polish flavour. I haven't touched them since."
"Wow, you must really care about Ron," Harold said, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, of course—wait, no, I mean—" Harry fumbled. "I didn't mean to give him those as a gift. I want to give him a wand!"
"I know, I know," Harold waved it off. "But if Hedwig doesn't come back, there's not much I can do. You know how wand shops work—other than the start-of-term rush, they barely see any business."
"You can't expect my grandfather to sit in an empty shop all day doing nothing, right?" Newest update provıded by 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹·𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒·𝗇𝗲𝘁
"No, of course not," Harry said quickly. "I'm just anxious. Ron really wants his own wand."
"Don't worry," Harold said. "Tomorrow's Christmas. There's still time. You've got to have faith in Hedwig."
Right. Faith in Hedwig was all they had left.
Harry stayed up late that night, tossing and turning. All he could think about was Hedwig getting back in time to bring Ron his surprise gift. Then he could enjoy a big feast and have some holiday fun.
He waited until past midnight, but Hedwig still hadn't come. He was too tired to stay awake any longer. His thoughts blurred as sleep pulled him under.
The next morning, Christmas arrived right on schedule.
Harold didn't get up too early—he rolled out of bed around nine and began tearing into the stack of parcels piled at the foot of his bed.
There were a lot of them. He counted quickly—at least a dozen. Twice as many as last year.
He started with the biggest package.
Thick brown paper, wrapped roughly, with wild, looping handwriting—he didn't even need to look at the name to know it was from Hagrid.
There were lots of things inside, but what stood out most was a small bundle of long, silvery unicorn tail hairs, each at least fifteen inches long. These were premium wand cores—top of the line.
Even Garrick Ollivander, Harold's grandfather, might never have seen this many high-grade unicorn hairs at once.
He had no idea how long Hagrid must have searched the forest to collect them.
There were also two huge black legs in the package.
Hagrid had given him legs from an Acromantula before, but these were much longer—at least ten feet when fully extended.
No wonder the package was so big. You couldn't exactly squeeze those into a small box.
Hard to imagine how huge that thing must've been when it was alive.
As Harold continued digging through his gifts, he suddenly heard Ron yelling from the next dorm over.
"Oh my god! A wand! Harry, you actually got me a new wand—I can't believe it—this is the best Christmas present I've ever had!"