Garion and Lila didn't stay in the Gryffindor common room for long—after about half an hour, they were ready to leave.
They didn't even stick around for the Hogwarts Christmas Feast.
"We're meeting Pomona at the Three Broomsticks," Lila said with a twinkle of excitement in her eye. "I've been looking forward to it… Madam Rosmerta's specially brewed pumpkin blossom mead."
Watching her expression, and the hurried pace at which she left the common room, Harold couldn't help but rethink what she'd said earlier—
"...Here to visit an old friend, and check in on you while we're at it."
Harold had a sneaking suspicion that might've been entirely true.
After they left, Harold went to the Great Hall with the others.
"Your parents are pretty funny," Fred said as he sidled up next to Harold. "How'd they get in?"
"Probably through Professor Sprout," Harold replied.
He wasn't surprised that his parents knew the head of Hufflepuff House.
There weren't many wizards in Britain researching magical plants, and even fewer who had published real academic work. It was a small world—everyone in that field likely knew each other.
But Fred looked slightly disappointed at Harold's answer.
He had been secretly hoping they'd come in through one of the secret passages from Hogsmeade.
Parents sneaking into Hogwarts against school policy? Now that sounded like his kind of people. Almost suspiciously so.
Especially since he and George had a very special map, one that clearly marked every secret tunnel between Hogwarts and the village.
When they'd first seen two grown wizards casually sitting in the Gryffindor common room, they'd even theorized that they might be the very Marauders—Padfoot, Prongs, Moony, and Wormtail.
They'd spent a long time whispering to each other, trying to match those codenames to Harold's parents.
And now? Turns out they were just normal, well-behaved guests who came in through the front gate with permission.
Bit of a letdown… well, at least the dried pop-bubble pods were fun.
The group stepped into the Great Hall and were instantly wrapped in the mouthwatering scent of roasted chicken. Even though few students had stayed for the holiday, the tables were still piled high with roasted meats, fried potatoes, sizzling sausages—it was a feast.
Every few steps along the table, there were colorful wizard crackers filled with all sorts of magical trinkets. Rumor had it you could even win the newest model of broomstick—though no one had ever actually pulled that off.
Harold opened a few crackers and got: a quill that didn't write, a brooch, a bag of glitter balloons, three biting coaster pads… and a dried pufferfish?
He wasn't quite sure why that was in there.
Cat treat, maybe?
He gave the fish a tap against the table—thunk thunk thunk. Just as hard as one of Hagrid's infamous rock cakes.
Hmm. Not totally useless. At least it could be a decent projectile.
As the feast wound down, Fred suggested they go out and have a snowball fight. Harry and Ron were the first to agree. Percy, the oldest, initially refused, saying it was childish. But under the twins' relentless tugging and teasing, he gave in and joined them.
Harold noticed Hagrid and a few professors heading off somewhere and, after a moment's thought, decided to join the others outside instead.
They played all afternoon in the snow. No one used magic—just good, old-fashioned snowballs. It was fun, but by the time they stumbled back to the common room, panting and dripping wet, everyone was huddling near the fireplace to warm up.
"Wait a minute—where's Harold?" Harry asked as he glanced around during a round of wizard chess with Ron.
"No idea," Fred replied, looking around as well. "Was he with us earlier?"
"He definitely was!" Ron said firmly, rubbing his shoulder. "I remember it clearly—he threw a snowball at me that had a rock in it!"
He might've been the only one who actually got hurt during the snowball fight—nearly cracked his skull. Thankfully, he'd slipped at just the right time, and the snowball only caught him on the shoulder.
"I'm sure Harold didn't do it on purpose," Harry said softly but confidently.
"How would you know?"
"Because… I threw that snowball," Harry admitted sheepishly, then quickly added, "You didn't say anything, so I thought it was fine! I didn't know there was a rock in there!"
Ron stared at him for a moment, then let out a long sigh. "Forget it. It's fine."
"If you mean that first-year student, he went to find the gamekeeper," Percy suddenly spoke up from the corner.
"You know?" Harry asked, surprised.
"I saw him," Percy said. "About an hour ago, after the professors came back from Hogsmeade. He spoke to the gamekeeper and then left with him."
"The gamekeeper… that's Hagrid," Harry said.
"Right. Rubeus Hagrid—that's his name," Percy nodded.
"Why would he go to Hagrid's?" Ron wondered aloud.
"What else? Definitely wand-making," Ron answered his own question with certainty. "He's obsessed with it."
"But it's Christmas," Fred said, baffled. "Everyone wants to just have fun today."
"Not Harold," Ron replied. "He's so into wand-making he won't even take weekends off. I almost never see him outside the dorms on weekends."
Fred and George exchanged a glance.
Was wand-making really that intense? No days off, even during holidays?
They thought of the book they'd recently borrowed from the library—A Guide to Wandcraft and Usage—and suddenly felt a lot less motivated to read it.
…
That said, Ron's guess was spot on: Harold was working on a wand. But he didn't feel burdened by it at all.
In Hagrid's hut near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid was sipping hot tea by the fire while watching Harold fiddle with what looked like a white, rope-thick string in his hands.
Hagrid pursed his lips.
Every time he saw this, he found it utterly unbelievable.
Just a month ago, that "string" had been a two-foot-long, bowl-thick segment of spine.
Over the past month, he had watched with his own eyes as the troll's backbone gradually shrank into what it was now.
How did Harold do it?
He'd asked more than once. Harold had never kept it secret—he'd said it was the most critical part of making a wand core, a spell called the Wand-Core Fusion Charm.
But Hagrid didn't get it.
Even seeing the whole process for himself hadn't helped.
He'd always thought wand-making meant stuffing a unicorn hair into a rounded stick.