Chapter 85: The Confrontation

That afternoon, Harold ended the queue three hours early—but still generously paid everyone their five Sickles. Most of the queue at that point were hired hands anyway. No point dragging things out. With the crowd thinning, Garrick could handle the rest. Harold slipped out of the wand shop and made his way to the main street of Diagon Alley. Flourish and Blotts' signing event was still going strong. A crowd was gathered outside—real customers this time. "Young Harry came to the bookstore today, hoping only to buy my autobiography..." As Harold passed by, Lockhart's proud voice echoed from within. "I insisted on gifting it to him... along with a rare, personally signed, pure gold wand sticker..." The crowd erupted in applause and praise for Lockhart's generosity. Harold clapped along outside the shop. Lockhart really was generous. Between the custom gold stickers and standard ones, Harold had made over a hundred Galleons. He didn't mind playing the part of enthusiastic fan at all. As he clapped, Harold watched the scene inside the shop closely. Harry was posing for photos with Lockhart. A reporter from the Daily Prophet was snapping shots. Not far away, two platinum-blonde figures entered the store. Draco Malfoy caught sight of Harry in the crowd, and his expression immediately soured. Perfect timing. Harold let out a subtle sigh of relief. The moment he'd seen Ginny Weasley in the shop earlier, he remembered something important. Today, Lucius Malfoy would bring the first of Voldemort's Horcruxes—the diary—into Diagon Alley. Harold was here for that diary. He didn't care about the thing's supposed powers, its "ask me anything" magic encyclopedia appeal. There was nothing Tom Riddle could tell him that he truly needed to know. Like how to craft a wand that surpassed the Elder Wand. Or how to make directional wands... Would Riddle know? Of course not. And Harold didn't care. What mattered was the soul fragment inside the diary. A full half of Voldemort's soul. Its quality and potency far surpassed anything ripped from a unicorn's tail. Harold had a plan. Before term started, he would have the unicorn pull as much soul out of the diary as possible—half to keep, half to test various wand cores. He wanted to know if the disposable wand issue stemmed from the core, or the wand wood. Voldemort was once the Dark Lord, nearly toppling all of magical Britain. His arsenal surely included more than just the Killing Curse. Avada Kedavra was merely the most convenient. But if Harold carried a dozen or more two-inch wands, each keyed to a different spell, even Voldemort's return wouldn't be so threatening. Mind racing, Harold pushed his way into the bookstore. Just as he expected, Draco Malfoy was needling Harry and Ron. Tension built quickly. Soon, the adults joined in, and the atmosphere boiled over. The two families were long-time rivals. Every meeting ended in mutual barbs and insults, no one ever backing down. So Lucius changed tactics—he turned his sneer toward Hermione's Muggle parents, using their blood status to insult the Weasleys. The contempt in his voice was so sharp that even Harold frowned. "Just look at the company you keep, Weasley... I thought your family had already sunk to its lowest." "So you're insulting William the Conqueror now?" Harold interjected casually, drawing every eye. Most of the room blinked in confusion. Why bring up William I? Lucius, however, stiffened. His gaze turned glacial. "What did you say?" "William the Conqueror. Don't you know him?" Harold shrugged innocently. "Oh, maybe you're more familiar with one of his Muggle associates... or rather, subordinates. Same surname, I believe—" "Silence!" Lucius suddenly screeched, a raw, piercing sound that drowned out Harold's words. Before anyone could react, he lunged like a madman toward Harold. "How dare you—how DARE you...!" All composure evaporated. The refined, pure-blood façade shredded in an instant. His platinum hair was a mess, his pale face twisted with fury. Even Draco recoiled in surprise. He had never seen his father like this. But before Lucius could reach Harold, someone else intervened. Arthur Weasley tackled Lucius to the ground. He'd wanted to do that the moment Lucius insulted the Grangers, but Harold had interrupted. Now, with Lucius attacking a student in public, he had the perfect excuse. Arthur's punch was a righteous act of protection—Lucius had gone berserk. Draco, panicked, tried to help his father. Ron jumped in on Arthur's side. Then came Fred and George, who "accidentally" kicked Draco while pretending to break things up. Even Harry got swept in—stumbling into Malfoy with a stomp or three. The entire shop descended into chaos. All because Harold had mentioned William the Conqueror. But most people forgot that detail. Like the Daily Prophet photographer, they just assumed Lucius had snapped. "Stop it—gentlemen—please!" a store clerk cried helplessly as shelves crashed and books flew. Then, a voice boomed over the noise: "Break it up—break it up—!" Hagrid stomped into the room, scattering fallen books and flailing limbs. In seconds, he had pulled the combatants apart. Lucius sported a black eye and a bloody lip. His platinum hair now looked like a bird's nest. Draco didn't fare much better. He had several clear boot prints on his robes. The Weasleys, on the other hand, emerged with only slightly ruffled clothes—five versus two had its advantages. "Who are you?" Lucius hissed at Harold. "What a coincidence," Harold replied with a grin. "Someone asked me that recently too. Someone you might know." He thought of Voldemort's wraith, screeching with rage as it was gored by a unicorn—asking the same question in blind fury. "Harold Ollivander. We've met before, though you clearly didn't remember." "If you'd like a refresher, I can provide the name registries of eleventh-century wizarding circles." Lucius turned a mottled red and white. Without another word, he turned to Arthur Weasley. Arthur squared his shoulders. "What? You want more?" Lucius didn't reply. He picked up a battered Transfiguration book—likely the one that gave him his shiner—and hurled it into Ginny's cauldron. He threw it so hard that Ginny fumbled, and the cauldron clattered to the floor. Lucius didn't look back. "This isn't over," he snarled. "Mark my words." He gave Harold one last glance, then stormed out with Draco trailing behind. The Daily Prophet crew immediately surged after them, hungry for answers. Even Hagrid couldn't stop their pursuit. "Where are you going—come back—!" Lockhart panicked, grabbing his tiny photographer and being dragged after the departing crowd. The shop was chaos once again. "We'd best get out of here," Hagrid muttered, and no one disagreed. "I'll help you," Harold offered, bending to pick up Ginny's fallen cauldron. "Thank you," Ginny said politely. But when she reached the door and tried to take the cauldron back, she saw Harold standing frozen, staring at it. "What's wrong?" she asked. No answer. Harold held a worn copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, staring at the empty cauldron in a daze. The diary... was gone. Only the textbook remained. ... (End of Chapter)