Harry Potter: The Wandmaker

Exams were finally over, and the days leading up to the holidays were spent basking under dazzling sunshine.

Most students found the warm, bright weather delightful, but Harold couldn't enjoy it at all. In fact, he would've preferred thunder and lightning—maybe even a torrential storm.

Because the Animagus potion only completed its transformation under a storm. Until then, Harold had to recite the incantation to his heart every morning and evening… even though the second heartbeat was now so clear it felt like it thudded right beside his ear.

Still, the chanting had to continue uninterrupted. If he missed a single session, the second heartbeat could vanish entirely, and he'd have to start all over again.

And according to Professor McGonagall, the second attempt was always harder than the first. She had emphasized over and over: unless absolutely necessary, the process must never be broken.

The day he encountered the basilisk, Harold had missed sunset. He'd planned to chant once he returned to the dormitory, but was intercepted by a giant snake instead.

Fortunately, that one slip only weakened the second heartbeat—it didn't disappear completely.

Harold had even considered using the Room of Requirement to simulate a storm. He'd tried it, and indeed, the room produced a forest soaked in magical thunder and rain.

But it quickly became clear: the storm was entirely magical.

And magic, no matter how realistic, couldn't match natural weather—like comparing Vernon Dursley to Snape in a potion-brewing contest.

The difference was too vast—two completely different worlds.

So Harold had no choice but to wait.

…

Soon, exam results were released.

To Harold's surprise, he'd done quite well—he received three O's: Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology.

The rest—Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and History of Magic—were E's (Exceeds Expectations).

That already put him among the top scorers in Gryffindor—especially for Potions.

"Incredible…" Ron gawked at Harold's results. "You might be only the second Gryffindor to ever get an O in Potions from Snape."

The first was Hermione. She'd earned an O in Potions last year—Snape hadn't been able to find fault with anything in her brew.

"He gave me a P!" Ron whined, holding his report card up to the window light. "I swear he's doing this on purpose. I followed the potion steps exactly—I should've at least gotten an A!"

"You're sure your steps were correct?" Hermione asked.

She'd been in the same exam room as Ron. After the test, she'd caught a glimpse of his cauldron.

It was… well… it looked like he'd scooped up a mud puddle after a rainstorm, added a tube of glue, and simmered the mixture until it smelled like scorched cabbage.

The Forgetfulness Potion they were supposed to make was meant to be pearly white with faint blue sparkles.

So really, Snape had been generous.

Ron didn't agree. He insisted Snape was getting back at him. Harry agreed—it was clearly vengeance.

His own Potions mark was even worse: a D. Just one rank above Neville, who had managed the dreaded T (for Troll).

But none of that dampened anyone's spirits.

At that night's feast, Gryffindor won the House Cup again—beating Slytherin by nearly three hundred points.

Even Professor McGonagall wore a rare smile, chatting amiably with Snape across Dumbledore.

Snape, meanwhile, looked anything but cheerful—his face like stone, nodding mechanically.

Who could blame him? The basilisk's eyes were missing, the heart had been eaten by Fluffy, and of the four great fangs, only one remained—chipped at that.

Now Slytherin had lost the House Cup too. Snape staying until the end of the feast was already admirable restraint.

…

The next morning, the term officially ended. As per tradition, students received a warning letter about the underage magic restriction before boarding the Hogwarts Express home.

At Hogsmeade Station, Harold ran into Professor McGonagall.

"I asked a few colleagues to share their Animagus transformation notes. You might find them useful," she said, handing him a thick notebook. "And don't slack on your regular Transfiguration practice—it's important to stay sharp."

"But, Professor, we're not allowed to use magic during the holidays," Harold reminded her.

"Of course I know that," she said. "But you live in Diagon Alley, don't you?"

Harold could hardly believe his ears.

Fair, law-abiding Professor McGonagall… was suggesting he bend the rules?

Was this really her, or had someone taken Polyjuice Potion?

"Chant your incantations at sunrise and sunset every day—don't forget." McGonagall carried on as if she hadn't just implied something highly illegal.

"If there's a storm over the holidays, I'll owl you. If you're not otherwise occupied, come back to Hogwarts at once."

"Oh—and you can use the fireplace. I'll connect my office to the Floo Network in advance."

With that, she hurried away.

…

Harold boarded the train.

Harry and the others had already claimed a compartment. When Harold entered, they were playing Exploding Snap.

He didn't join—not because he disliked the game, but because he didn't trust Fred and George.

They had provided the cards and were now watching gleefully from the sidelines, clearly anticipating something.

Based on Harold's knowledge of the twins, they had definitely rigged the deck.

Sure enough, on Ron's third turn, he flipped two mismatched cards.

"Oh no," Ron sighed, closing his eyes to brace for the explosion.

BOOM!

Harold had never imagined that a card game could rival an actual Blasting Curse. Ron looked dazed—his red hair now stood on end like a porcupine, and his face was smudged black.

"Ha! It worked!"

"We did it!" Fred and George high-fived.

"You did this?" Ron sputtered.

"Of course…" Fred began.

"…we did!" George finished.

"It was obvious, wasn't it?" Fred said. "Standard exploding cards are far too tame—there's no thrill."

"So we made a few… improvements," George added.

"A few?" Ron pointed to his hair. "I can smell something burning!"

Fred and George ignored his outrage and turned to Harry.

"So, what do you think? Exciting, right?"

Harry hesitated… then nodded.

He hadn't cared much about winning before—it was all for fun. But after seeing Ron get blown up, his competitive side was suddenly wide awake.

This game just got a whole lot more interesting.

…

(End of Chapter)