Chapter 117: Footprints

Even Hermione had to admit—Harold's method worked like a charm. In just two days, the calls for Hogwarts to expel Harold Ollivander had mostly vanished. Smart people didn't want to become the excuse for a wand price hike... and as for the not-so-smart ones, there was always someone ready to point out they were playing right into Harold's hands. While the rumors hadn't completely disappeared, things had improved significantly. With the Christmas holidays just around the corner, even fewer people were interested in continuing the discussion. Only a handful of Slytherins were still stubborn about it. Every time they passed by Harold, they would deliberately raise their voices and say something passive-aggressive. Draco Malfoy led the charge. Ever since returning from St. Mungo's, his attitude had taken a sharp turn for the worse. He'd wanted to take revenge on Lockhart for the pain of regrowing his bones with Skele-Gro—but Lockhart was now lying in the hospital wing in an even worse state, practically lifeless. So Malfoy redirected his fury toward Harold. After all, it was Harold who had fetched Madam Pomfrey—if not for that, it would've been that damned Potter who lost his bones instead. And Malfoy certainly wasn't afraid of being threatened with wand blacklisting. Who cared about Ollivanders? He could just buy from Gregorovitch. The Malfoys had plenty of money, after all. But on the day before the Christmas holidays, as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were returning to their common room, someone suddenly pulled sacks over their heads from behind. "Hit 'em hard! I'll take full responsibility—Marcus Flint!" was all Malfoy heard, before a storm of fists and boots rained down on him. One kick landed squarely on his face. The familiar feel and force—the perfect size—instantly triggered a memory. "Potter!" Malfoy howled through the pummeling, "It's you, Potter! I swear I'll kill you!" The beating stopped, and he heard footsteps rushing away. But when he angrily tore off the sack, not a single soul was in sight. Crabbe and Goyle finally managed to get their sacks off too. "That bloody Marcus, how dare he hit us?" Goyle shouted angrily, one of his eyes swollen shut, his clothes covered in muddy bootprints. "You idiot, that wasn't Marcus!" Malfoy shouted. "Use your brain! Why would he ambush us? That was clearly Gryffindors!" Malfoy stood there seething for a few minutes, then suddenly turned around. "We're going." "To get revenge?" Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles. "Of course we're getting revenge," Malfoy said. "We're going to Professor Snape. This time it's Gryffindor who broke the rules. They're finished!" The three of them stormed off toward the dungeons. Not far away, Harry, who had been watching them, looked worried. "Harold, Malfoy recognized me. If he tells Snape, I'm done for..." Just thinking about Snape's unique style of detention made Harry go pale. Malfoy's head was covered by a sack, and Harry hadn't said a word—how did he recognize him? "Relax. The one who beat them was Marcus Flint. What's it got to do with us Gryffindors?" Harold patted him on the shoulder. "Exactly!" Fred and George chimed in cheerfully. "It's got nothing to do with us Gryffindors!" "He's clearly making false accusations." Fred and George had been the most enthusiastic earlier, kicking and punching nonstop. "But he called my name," Harry said anxiously. "So what? If he'd shouted 'Dumbledore,' would the headmaster owe him an apology?" Harold said. "And anyway, you've been in the library with me all evening. No time to be anywhere near the dungeons. "Now hurry up and get the Invisibility Cloak—we should head back." "Oh, right." Harry quickly pulled out a silvery cloak that looked like it was woven from water, under the envious gazes of the twins. "An Invisibility Cloak," Fred sighed. "Sure would be nice if someone gave us one for Christmas this year." "Go to bed and dream about it," Harold said mercilessly. "That was brutal," George said, rubbing his eyes dramatically. "Well then, hope you both get Invisibility Cloaks this Christmas," Harold replied. "By the way, is it true? That rumor about 'the one who spreads power' being the wandmaker—did it really start in Slytherin?" "Half true," Fred said with a nod. "The other half came from Gryffindor," George added. "But we'd never aim something like that at you, right?" Harold didn't answer. Just then, some noise echoed ahead. Fred and George darted into a dark corridor nearby. Harold and Harry threw the cloak over themselves and headed upstairs to the library. With Christmas just a day away, there were only a few students left doing homework or reading. They entered unnoticed and emerged from under the cloak at a secluded table in the back. "I can't believe you actually went after Malfoy," Hermione hissed in disbelief. "You've said that like ten times, Hermione," Ron groaned. "So, did it work? What's Malfoy look like?" "Got absolutely wrecked," Harry said, still riding the high. "That's a serious breach of the rules," Hermione said. "If Professor Snape finds out—" "He won't, unless you tell him," Harold said, taking a seat. "Madam Pince was at the entrance the whole time. We never left once. Malfoy's got no proof." Harry sat between Ron and Harold, chest heaving. His heart was still racing. He couldn't believe he'd just randomly decided to join Harold and the twins earlier. He'd even helped come up with the plan and lent them the Invisibility Cloak—all because Harold wanted to beat up Malfoy. Thanks to the cloak, they'd pulled it off. As his heartbeat began to slow, the memory of booting Malfoy in the face filled him with indescribable satisfaction. The fatigue from training, pressure from matches, and being hounded by Lockhart and Colin—all of it melted away with Malfoy's screams. "Next time something like this happens, count me in," he said to Harold without thinking. "Harry!" Hermione gasped so loudly that Madam Pince glanced their way. She immediately lowered her voice. "You can't... Harry, there's no way you left no evidence behind." Ron, meanwhile, looked miserably jealous. If even Harry said it was worth it, then it must have been amazing. But the cloak could only cover two people at most. Adding a third would've been too risky, so he'd had to stay back and run interference with Hermione. "Alright, alright, Harry was just joking. Don't take it so seriously," Harold said, getting up. "Besides, it's not like we'll get this chance again anytime soon. Tomorrow's the start of Christmas break—most students will leave. Malfoy's not about to barge into the dorms. By the time school starts up again, this whole thing will have blown over." "I hope so," Hermione said, though she didn't sound convinced. The group returned their books and headed out of the library. "By the way, what time are you coming to the library over the holidays? We can study together," Hermione said. "I'm staying at Hogwarts for Christmas this year." "I probably won't be coming to the library," Harold said with a shrug. "What?" Hermione looked like she'd misheard. "Honestly, I think I've been rushing it too much," Harold said, flipping through his heavily annotated Advanced Transfiguration Guide. "A lot of this stuff I don't even understand. Reading more won't help if I don't get it. I've decided to take a break." "That's the spirit!" Ron said. "Holidays should be for wizard chess and Exploding Snap! I've got a new set." "No, you misunderstood. Making wands is a break for me... oh, good evening, Professor Snape." As they stepped out of the library, they ran straight into Snape—and three bruised, battered students behind him. "It was you, wasn't it," Snape said, glowering at Harold and Harry. "Gryffindor loses—" "Hold on, Professor." Harold stepped forward, cutting him off and blocking the three behind. He locked eyes with Snape. "I don't know what you're talking about, but we've been in the library since dinner. Maybe there's been a misunderstanding?" "No way!" Malfoy pushed forward angrily. "It was Potter! He kicked me in the face—I know it!" "Sorry, and you are...?" Harold squinted at him, pretending to study his face. "Oh! Draco Malfoy. Sorry, I didn't recognize you. You've put on some weight, haven't you? Your face is really round now." Malfoy's face wasn't round—it was swollen. Someone had smeared belladonna powder inside the sack they used on them! "You little—!" "Draco," Snape cut him off coldly. He turned back to Harold. "You said you were in the library?" "Yes." "And you never left?" "No." "I'll be verifying that." "Of course, that's your job," Harold said politely. "Madam Pince was at the front desk the whole time. There were other upper-year students too. If we'd gone in and out, there's no way all of them would've missed it." "I don't need you telling me how to do my job," Snape growled. "Of course not, Professor," Harold said smoothly. "Now, may we go? We've got a mountain of homework to finish." ... (End of Chapter)