Harry Potter: The Wandmaker

When Harold woke up, it was already the next morning.

And truth be told, that sleep had been absolutely amazing. His body and mind both felt completely relaxed, all the exhaustion from the previous night gone without a trace.

Ron had taken more potions than he had, so he was still out cold. But his cheeks were rosy again, and it didn't look like he'd be missing the exams in two days.

Harold wasn't sure whether Ron would be happy or disappointed to hear that.

Madam Pomfrey wasn't in the room. Harold was debating whether to sneak back to the castle when the doors creaked open from the outside.

Dumbledore stepped in first, followed by Madam Pomfrey and Snape.

"Looks like you've recovered quite well," Dumbledore said with a smile, glancing toward one of the beds to Harold's left.

Only then did Harold notice that the curtain on that bed had been pulled back, leaving a narrow gap—just enough for him to see the person lying there.

That unmistakable blond hair…

"Gilderoy Lockhart?" Harold blurted out.

"Yes, you're not mistaken," said Dumbledore. "He was brought in last night, after you and Mr. Weasley had already fallen asleep."

"What happened to him?" Harold asked. "Ron said he worked with someone to open the Chamber. Now the basilisk is dead… and he didn't try to run?"

"If he were still conscious, he likely would have," Dumbledore said. He moved to a nearby chair and sat down, his eyes glinting with a mix of warmth and memory.

"Time and again, we've seen that Tom Riddle is not a reliable partner. He's a master of deception—able to lure people into his traps before they even know it."

"So Lockhart got tricked?" Harold asked, wide-eyed.

"You could say that." Dumbledore nodded. "I imagine Riddle didn't tell him the whole truth before he slit his palm to unseal the door."

"Wizard blood indeed holds tremendous magical power, and can be used to undo certain spells. But very few dare attempt it—for the price paid is far greater than most realize."

Dumbledore didn't explain what that price was. But from the look on his face, it was clearly not the kind of thing one recovered from in a couple days.

"Headmaster…" Snape stepped forward, as though about to say something. But at a small shake of Dumbledore's head, he gritted his teeth and backed off—though his gaze remained fixed on Harold.

Feeling the weight of that stare, Harold turned toward Dumbledore. "Sir, can I go back now? I'm really fine. None of that basilisk blood touched me."

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore said kindly. "Not even I can overrule Madam Pomfrey here in the hospital wing."

"But," he added, eyes twinkling, "I think you'll be quite happy to hear some other news I've brought."

He gave Harold a small wink and pulled out a roll of parchment tied with a colorful ribbon.

"For your bravery last night—your quick thinking in summoning Fluffy, and assisting Hagrid in defeating the basilisk—the professors and governors have unanimously decided to award you the Special Services to the School."

He handed the parchment to Harold.

As soon as Harold took it, the ribbon around it shimmered and untied itself, transforming mid-air into a gleaming golden medallion. The parchment unfurled gracefully, revealing beautifully scripted golden letters.

It praised him for his role in defeating the basilisk—an official recognition with no small weight. For most, such a commendation could secure a prestigious job post-graduation.

If one wanted to become an Auror, this parchment might be worth five N.E.W.T.s with Outstanding marks.

But for Harold… it was kind of useless. He would've preferred a phoenix feather core.

"Do I need to put this in the Trophy Room?" he asked, inspecting the hefty gold medallion—which, oddly enough, had once just been a ribbon.

"No need," said Dumbledore. "There's already one just like it in the display. This one's yours to keep."

So it was fake, then.

Harold casually stuffed the medal into his pocket.

"And one more thing…" Dumbledore added, rubbing his chin. "Ah, yes—you've just earned Gryffindor two hundred House Points."

This time, Harold remained unfazed.

Sure, it was a lot—but since Gryffindor had already been in the lead thanks to his previous contributions, the extra points just cemented their win even more.

Instead of probably winning the House Cup, they now definitely would.

Dumbledore rose to leave.

At last, Snape seized his chance. He strode to Harold's bedside, eyes glinting like a snake's.

"Where is it?"

"…Where is what?" Harold blinked innocently.

"Still playing dumb, are you?" Snape sneered.

"I really don't know what you're talking about," Harold said, backing away a little. "If you lost something, maybe check with Filch? He might've picked it up."

"You think you can brush this off so easily?" Snape's voice grew cold and sharp. "Where are the basilisk's eyes? The fangs? And most importantly—its gallbladder. Did you take them?!"

"I didn't," Harold said quickly. "I swear on Merlin's beard, I didn't take any gallbladders. I didn't even see them."

His tone was so firm that Snape actually hesitated. Something in him almost believed the boy.

But that couldn't be! If Harold didn't take them, how could they have vanished?

"You might want to check Fluffy's mouth," Harold suggested, sounding very serious. "Maybe he accidentally swallowed the gallbladder when he tore the basilisk apart."

"What about the eyes and fangs?" Snape pressed. "You only mentioned the gallbladder."

"Ask Hagrid," Harold shrugged. "Maybe he smashed them during the fight."

"No one—not even a half-giant—can crush basilisk fangs with his bare fists," Snape said tightly. "There were four—massive, venomous—and now three are mysteriously missing. Care to explain?"

"I can't," Harold said. He pulled out everything in his pockets, setting them on the cabinet next to the bed—including the parchment and gold medal.

"That's everything I have. Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall can both confirm—I came straight back here after the Quidditch pitch and haven't left since."

Snape opened his mouth to argue, but Dumbledore cut in.

"I understand your concern, Severus," the Headmaster said calmly. "But as you can see, all of Mr. Ollivander's belongings are right here. There's clearly nothing suspicious."

Snape didn't look satisfied—but with no evidence and Dumbledore present, he had little choice.

(End of Chapter)