Harry Potter: The Wandmaker

The next morning, nearly everyone had heard the news that Lockhart had been attacked and was found barely alive in the Entrance Hall.

Rumor had it he'd been in a bad mood, went drinking in Hogsmeade, and got attacked there. Madam Rosmerta, the owner of the Three Broomsticks, could confirm that part—Lockhart had started out drinking in her pub, then for some reason went to the Hog's Head, and after that, he vanished.

No one knew where he went, what he experienced, or why he eventually ended up back in the castle's Entrance Hall.

But the bloody words scrawled on his robes quickly sparked panic among the students, and the fact that he was a professor only made the incident more terrifying.

The school buzzed with rumors as everyone tried to figure out what the message meant.

For several days, students speculated about who the "bearer of power" or the "unwelcome prophet" could be—were they one person or two? Were they already in Hogwarts?

And the phrase "wands at the ready"—did that mean anyone carrying a wand was at risk of being attacked?

Out of fear, many lower-year students stopped bringing their wands to class altogether, until the professors sternly ordered them to carry them again—reluctantly, they stuffed their wands into their pockets.

Until the final weekend before Christmas break, a new theory suddenly swept across the school overnight.

Someone had combined two of the cryptic lines and drawn a shocking conclusion:

The bearer of power, the wand-holder… could it be referring to a wandmaker?

Everyone knew the Ministry of Magic's emblem featured a wand and a large letter "M." The wand represented magical authority—a symbol of power.

And the person who sold wands to every wizard… wasn't that spreading power?

Then there was that third line. Did it mean people carrying wands should be cautious? Or was it warning about someone connected to wands?

This theory quickly gained traction, and conveniently, there was an Ollivander at school.

Even more conveniently, Harold Ollivander had been the first person attacked. Add that to the phrase "the beginning and end of all calamities"—

The first victim—wasn't that the beginning of the calamity?

Another match!

Before long, rumors were flying everywhere. And all eyes were subtly turning toward Gryffindor's Harold Ollivander.

…

"Harold, don't worry—we believe you!" In the Gryffindor common room, Fred and George walked up and clapped Harold firmly on the shoulder to show their support.

"We know you've got nothing to do with that damn Chamber of Secrets."

"Not even sure it exists," George muttered.

"It never had anything to do with me in the first place," Harold said. "There's only supposed to be one Chamber, left behind by Slytherin. You think I, a Gryffindor, could open it?"

"But people are saying the attacks are happening just to get rid of you," Harry said quietly beside him.

"That makes even less sense," Harold said, setting down his book. "If I'm the target, why go after Lockhart? Do we look alike or something?"

"No—definitely not," Harry shook his head. "I meant, I believe you. I know you're not involved. I just thought… you might be having a hard time dealing with the rumors."

"What rumors?" Harold looked confused.

"You really don't know?" Harry hadn't expected that reaction.

"Should I?"

"Lately a lot of people have been saying that if you leave the school, the attacks will stop, so…"

Harry hesitated for a couple of seconds, then continued, "So people are saying the school should… expel you."

"You haven't heard that?"

"Honestly? Not once," Harold said, shaking his head. "That was the first I've heard of it."

"No way," Ron said, shocked. "I've heard that rumor at least a few times already. No one came to you about it?"

"Nope," Harold shrugged. "Why would I lie to you?"

"But why?" Ron couldn't wrap his head around it.

"They probably don't dare," Harold said coolly.

"Don't dare?" Ron was still puzzled.

Harold wasn't Dumbledore, after all. He was just a second-year student—what was there to be afraid of?

"If you think about it," Fred chimed in, immediately grasping what Harold meant, "no one can guarantee they'll only ever need one wand in their whole life."

"In Britain, Ollivander's wands are the best," George added. "If Harold refuses to sell someone a wand in the future, they'll have to go abroad to buy from Gregorovitch."

"And their kids'll have to go abroad to buy wands too."

"Slytherin's the most likely group to target Harold, but they're also the cleverest. They won't take that risk."

"They're probably busy stirring things up from the shadows, pushing others to do the dirty work. Bet those rumors going around were helped along by Slytherin whispers."

Ron's eyes grew wider and wider as he realized Harold's identity came with that much influence.

"Don't be ridiculous. Harold would never refuse to sell someone a wand over some stupid rumors," Hermione said.

"I'm ashamed to admit I totally would," Harold raised an eyebrow. "You're thinking of my grandfather—he only cared about making wands, nothing else. I'm not nearly as generous."

"But actually, you just gave me a great idea." Harold looked up at Fred and George. "Can I ask you two for a favor?"

"Of course."

"Ten favors, even."

The twins beamed.

"Won't need ten," Harold said. "Just help me spread a message—to all the idiots who haven't realized they're being played."

"Oh, we got you," George grinned and winked. "We'll get the word out."

"The great Harold Ollivander will one day take over the family wand shop."

Fred placed a hand on his chest and raised the other high. "And if anyone doesn't want to be blacklisted by Ollivander's—"

"Then they'd better shut their mouths," George said, giving him a high five.

"That's more or less the idea," Harold nodded.

"But Harold," Fred said, sitting down across from him, suddenly serious, "you should know—this plan won't work on everyone."

"Some people still don't realize how important wands are."

"Hmm…" Harold thought for a moment. "Then let's add one more thing. If the rumors get too loud, I might raise prices when I take over the shop."

"Raise prices?" Now everyone was on edge.

"But the prices have always been the same!" Dean Thomas protested nearby.

"Oh, you know they've always been the same?" Harold's forehead twitched. "A unicorn hair costs nine Galleons. A finished wand with one sells for seven. You think that's fair?"

"But the Ministry gives your family compensation…" someone murmured.

"Five Galleons. Exactly the base cost of a wand," Harold said disdainfully. "And they drag their feet—you won't get that money for a whole year."

He'd wanted to say this for a long time. This was the perfect chance.

"Go ask around. Twelve Galleons for a wand hasn't been the standard for three centuries. A Gregorovitch wand costs at least twenty-five. If you're not a new student, it's thirty-five."

"Same with France's Arcailleur wands."

Twelve for first-years, seventeen for non-first-years—Ollivanders had basically been donating their time and work to cover the gap, or rather, doing free labor for the Ministry.

New students in Britain could get wands for just seven Galleons. It had become a sort of trademark of British wizardry at the International Confederation of Wizards.

Previous Ministers at least gave the Ollivanders credit for it. But after Cornelius Fudge took office, he claimed the "seven-Galleon wand" as his achievement, saying the Ministry was subsidizing wand purchases for new students.

Thanks to that, more and more people started to think cheap wands were just how it was—like Dean Thomas.

But a few sharp remarks from Harold shut him up fast, and no one else spoke up in his defense.

"Harold, for the record, I'm not against raising prices," Fred said, licking his lips. "But you'd better be ready. If you go through with it, there's gonna be a storm."

"And not just in Hogwarts," George added. "The entire magical world will feel it."

"Relax, I said I might raise prices." Harold waved them off. "Besides, I'm only in second year. It'll be years before I take over the shop."

The twins finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Like they'd said, they weren't against a price hike. But something that big had to be handled carefully—not just blurted out. Otherwise, Harold could really make himself a target.

But if it happened ten years from now, that was another story.

"Don't worry—we'll make sure your message gets delivered!" Fred thumped his chest, grinning like a boy who'd just found a prank-worthy opportunity.

"I think we should write it out and post it in every House common room, right at the entrance."

"Great idea. I'll go get some parchment."

"I'll go figure out the Slytherin password."

The twins dashed off down the passageway.

In the common room, Hermione looked like she wanted to say something—but before she could speak, Harold had already gone upstairs to his dorm.

…

(End of Chapter)