Chapter 70: Overload

After shaking off the Weasley twins, Harold kept heading for the castle gates. At the entrance, he ran into Snape, who looked like he was deliberately waiting there. Probably for Harry. After all, Hogwarts was officially on holiday now. After today, it'd be two whole months before anyone saw each other again. Lost in thought, Harold passed right by Snape without noticing the man's eyes tracking him the entire time. He even missed Harry hurriedly approaching from behind. Snape opened his mouth, about to speak— "Severus, I've been looking for you," Dumbledore called as he approached from the opposite side. "I'd like to visit some old friends over the break. Would you accompany me?" "You could ask just about anyone to do that. Why me?" Snape narrowed his eyes. "You must've sensed it too—what happened last night." He lowered his voice and gripped his own wrist tightly. "I know that face. You told me he escaped the underground chamber—but I saw him." "Severus, I swear, I wasn't lying," Dumbledore said calmly. "I believe you. Of course I do..." Snape's gaze flickered restlessly. "But Ollivander's boy went into the underground too. He might know something we don't!" "He didn't go into the final chamber," Dumbledore said after a pause. "But—" "Severus," Dumbledore cut him off. "We can't assume young Harold is involved just on a hunch." Just then, Harry arrived at the gate and glanced curiously at the two adults. It was a rare sight—Hogwarts' headmaster seeing students off in person. Harry smiled. "Goodbye, sir." "Goodbye, Harry," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "Now then, Severus," Dumbledore turned to Snape. "I do believe our top priority is finding a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Will you help me?" "Of course, Headmaster. Though I do wonder if it wouldn't be easier to find a new Potions Master instead." Snape's tone was dry as dust. "I doubt I'll find a better one than you," Dumbledore replied. "Is that so? I certainly hope you're right." Snape gave a cold smirk and turned back toward the castle. ... The return trip on the Hogwarts Express was livelier than the journey to school—especially for first-years from Muggle families. After nearly a full year at Hogwarts, most of the students no longer felt lost or unsure. They had truly come to accept the magical world. Now they couldn't wait to get home and regale their families with stories of the wonders they'd seen. The only dampener was the notice they'd received just before break—no underage magic allowed during the holidays. It was like going to the beach and being told no swimsuits allowed. Some students protested the rule loudly—but it didn't matter. A "notice" meant there was no discussion to be had. The Ministry didn't care what students thought. It was written clearly: use magic at home, and you could be expelled. First-years grumbled and sulked as they stuffed the notice away. The upper years, well familiar with this drill, took it in stride. The Hogwarts Express chugged past towns and woods, full of students chatting excitedly about their summer plans. Many compartments were filled with friends sitting comfortably together. Harold, however, found an empty one and slipped inside alone. It wasn't that he lacked friends—he had plenty. He just wasn't in the mood. The train passed another forest. Someone knocked. Neville entered. Harold looked up. "I saw it," Neville blurted, then seemed to realize what he was saying. He quickly turned and shut the door behind him. "What?" Harold asked. "The unicorn," Neville sat down beside him. "I couldn't sleep last night. I saw it come out of your dorm window. And... and something else..." Whatever he was remembering, it terrified him. Neville's face turned pale, and his teeth began to chatter. "Don't force yourself. That thing really wasn't pleasant." Neville's words pulled Harold back into the memory of last night. He hadn't expected that fragment to house a consciousness. Maybe Voldemort thought it would help hide the truth, lull him into dropping his guard. But Voldemort clearly hadn't accounted for Harold's true intentions. When Harold tried to refine the fragment into a wand core and embed it into the dragonblood wood, he'd unwittingly forced out Voldemort's will. Then... all hell broke loose. A unicorn vs. Voldemort, round two. And half the castle's windows paid the price. As for the outcome? Well, Harold was still here, on the train, wasn't he? Unicorns were the bane of all dark magic—and that puny sliver of Voldemort's soul wasn't even the size of a Snitch. No contest. Looking back, it was terrifying to realize—that fragment had will. Wasn't that the precursor to a Horcrux? But Horcruxes needed murder to split the soul... Harold couldn't figure it out. Still, hadn't he just accidentally discovered a way to destroy Horcruxes? A unicorn spirit—immune to dark magic, now able to strike souls—was the perfect weapon against Voldemort. Maybe it was because Voldemort drank unicorn blood. Maybe the curse had kicked in. Harold turned to look out the window again, for the umpteenth time feeling grateful he had summoned the unicorn immediately upon seeing that face. Shame about the dragonblood wood though—completely vaporized. He sighed, unaware that Neville had slumped beside him, too discouraged to even lecture him about "no more blowing up the dorm." Neville stood to leave. "Oh, by the way—there's something in your hood," he said before stepping out. Harold tilted his head, but couldn't see anything. He didn't think much of it. That hood was from a new robe the Weasley twins got him—it rarely left his cloak hanger. "Probably fell in last night," Neville added, reaching into the hood. He pulled out two slivers of wood, each about the length of a finger. "Kinda pretty, actually." Of course they were. It was dragonblood wood! Seeing those fragments again made Harold wince. He instinctively reached out to take them. The moment his fingers touched the wood, something happened. The magical runes on his wrist—those that only lit up when crafting a wand—suddenly flared to life. As if completing the final step of a long ritual, the two broken slivers snapped together and formed a complete wand. [Dragonblood Wood (Serpentwood), Wraith of Darkness, 2.5 inches][Status: Unstable, Critical] [Traits:]• Unique: Upon contact with magic, automatically casts the Killing Curse.• Overload: Instantly consumes the core to amplify the Killing Curse. Overflowing magic will chain to the next available target. Harold: ... (End of Chapter)