Chapter 9: Very Rude

Words : 1236 Updated : Sep 25th, 2025

Chapter 9 of "Harry Potter: The Wandmaker" opens with dynamic events: After the topic of wands was dropped, the compartment finally quieted down for once—mostly because... Read on for more!

After the topic of wands was dropped, the compartment finally quieted down for once—mostly because Hermione didn't quite dare talk to Harold again, worried she might upset Neville further. Harold was more than happy to enjoy the peace. Once the train stopped bumping so much, he reopened the book in his hands. Compared to chatting with Miss Know-it-All, wands were far more interesting. This book had been given to him by Ollivander before departure, and a lot of its content was eye-opening for Harold. What could he say—Ollivander's Wand Shop had been around for over two thousand years, even older than Hogwarts itself. And it had left behind far more than that small, shabby shop on Diagon Alley. Even though the book in Harold's hands wasn't from the oldest batch—only about five hundred years old—it was more than enough for him. ... From morning to afternoon, the sky gradually darkened, and when Harold finally looked up again, Hermione and Neville were gone. He was the only one left in the compartment. "We there yet?" Harold instinctively looked out the window. The sky hung low, covered in a gloomy gray that felt a bit oppressive. Just then, the lights in the carriage flickered on, casting a warm yellow glow that turned the windows into a mirror of pitch-black. He couldn't see a thing outside. Right then, Hermione returned. "Harold, you..." She opened the compartment door and paused slightly. "What is it?" "Ah, nothing." Hermione shook her head and explained, "I just thought you were still reading, so I came to remind you to hurry and change into your robes—we're almost there." "Thanks," Harold nodded. "You're welcome," Hermione replied. She'd come back to grab her luggage and figured she might as well remind Harold too. But before she could even lift her trunk, Harold stopped her. "No need. Someone else will handle the luggage." "You sure?" Hermione sounded skeptical. "Of course," Harold said with a smile. "If everyone had to drag their own trunks, the school's transport wouldn't be nearly enough." Hermione looked even more confused. She really wanted to ask what kind of transport he meant, but just then the train came to a complete stop. "Please leave your luggage on the train—we'll have it sent to the school for you." The announcement echoed through the train, confirming Harold's claim. They really didn't need to carry their luggage. "First-years! First-years, over here!" came another unfamiliar voice from outside. "We'd better get going," Hermione said, watching as Harold pulled a small leather bag down from the rack. "It's just more reassuring to keep the valuables on you." Harold slung the bag over his shoulder and covered it with his cloak. During the process, the bag occasionally made faint clinking sounds. Hermione suddenly had a guess. It must be gold and silver coins. If so, then it made sense to keep them close. Her money was just stuffed into her pocket, not enough to need a whole bag. Not surprising, though. Wandmakers were like the arms dealers of the wizarding world—of course they weren't short on cash. Speaking of wealth, she'd just met another boy who was apparently from a very rich family—zero manners, walked around with two cronies, nose practically in the air. Compared to that, Harold's personality was far more pleasant. He was patient with both her and Neville. Just maybe... a bit too studious. He'd been reading the whole train ride. Even if it was a "leisure" book and not a textbook, she couldn't help but feel a little pressure. But Harold had no idea what Hermione was thinking. After changing into his robes, he followed the crowd off the train. Outside, a huge man holding a lantern was shouting loudly: "...Sorry, Harry, I don't have time to chat right now—first-years, this way!" Neville, who had gotten off earlier, was already standing next to him, waving enthusiastically at Harold and Hermione. "This way, hurry up!" "Neville..." Hermione hurried over and asked, "Did you find your toad?" "No," Neville's face instantly fell. "I asked in every compartment, but everyone said they hadn't seen Trevor..." "Maybe he's hiding somewhere," Hermione said. "Don't worry—I'll ask the conductor to help you check when they unload the luggage. The train's not that big. He's got to be on here somewhere." "Thank you, Hermione." Neville was so touched he was nearly in tears. He really meant it. In all his life, Hermione was the first stranger who had ever gone out of their way to help him like this. But before they could act, a loud screech from a cat drew everyone's attention. On the other side of the crowd, Harold was holding his pet by the scruff of its neck, forcibly prying something out of its mouth... A toad? Just then, a lantern swung overhead. In the sudden beam of light, Neville saw clearly what was in the cat's mouth. "Trevor!" he shouted in delight, rushing over to snatch the toad from Harold's hand. "Thank you!" "Don't mention it," Harold shook his head. He was about to say more, but Hagrid was already approaching. An eleven-foot-tall giant made quite an impression on first-years—everyone's attention was drawn to him, Neville included. So Harold said no more. Led by Hagrid, the group started stumbling their way forward. Harold stayed at the back, looking down at Tom, who clearly wasn't thrilled. "I wasn't trying to steal your prey," Harold said, not even sure if Tom could understand. "...But Trevor's a pet too, so technically you're colleagues. Personally, I think eating a colleague is very rude behavior." "Yowl!" Tom howled. "So you agree, huh?" Harold said to himself, giving the cat a pat on the head. Tom was dumbfounded. When had he agreed? He'd clearly been cursing him just now. That was his prey! Caught fair and square in the bushes! How was it a colleague? And even if it was, he'd eaten loads of pets back at the shop. If you counted by value, he was worth at least fifteen Galleons. Unfortunately, Harold couldn't understand a word of what he was saying and continued rambling. "Before we get to the castle, let's make a deal—don't eat your coworkers, okay?" "Yowl!" "If you do, I'll have to make up the cost somewhere else... like maybe experimenting with hybrid magical creatures as wand cores or something." Harold narrowed his eyes. "I remember the owls at Eeylops Owl Emporium had some kneazle blood in them. That's why they're so clever. You're probably the same, right?" "Meow~" The pressure on his wrist suddenly eased, and a soft, wet feeling spread across his hand. Looking down, Harold saw that Tom, who had just been struggling like mad, had suddenly gone docile and was now licking his hand obediently. Even his meowing sounded more like a normal cat's. Still a bit gruff—like it couldn't quite figure out how to purr right. But that didn't matter. "Good boy, Tom..." Harold smiled, stroking the cat's head. "I knew you'd understand me." (End of Chapter) Note: Come and join my patreon to get access of 20 advances chapters. Patreon: patreon.com/BlackVail

Chapter 9: Very Rude

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