Thanks to Harry's enthusiastic promotion, the news that Harold could craft wands using a wizard's hair spread quickly through Hogwarts.
Many students were intrigued, and whether in class or elsewhere, Harold was constantly surrounded by a crowd. The endless questions and chatter were starting to get on his nerves.
Ron was green with envy, but Harry completely understood how Harold felt, and one morning, he sought him out.
"Sorry, I didn't think it would…" Harry said awkwardly. "It's just that Dean Thomas noticed my wand was a different color, so I told him, and I didn't expect the news to spread so fast."
"It's fine… actually, you don't need to apologize," Harold said with a wave of his hand. "I should be thanking you for the publicity. I've already made over a hundred Galleons in the past couple days."
"Whoa, that much?" Harry said, surprised.
"It's decent," Harold shrugged.
In truth, there hadn't been that many actual orders.
Harold's price was nine Galleons per wand—not exactly cheap. A lot of students only had about ten Galleons in spending money for the whole year. They weren't likely to spend it all on a backup wand, no matter how meaningful it sounded.
"Most of them are just curious and hanging around for the spectacle. I'm not actually that busy—just a little annoyed by all the questions."
"Yeah, that sounds annoying," Harry agreed with a nod.
After breakfast, they headed down to the dungeon classroom for Thursday's double Potions lesson.
Harold had expected they'd be continuing the Wolfsbane Potion from the last class.
But when he arrived, he saw only his usual pewter cauldron—no sign of the silver ones from before.
"Today we'll be brewing Shrinking Solution," Snape announced, acting as though he had entirely forgotten the previous lesson.
"Professor!" Hermione immediately raised her hand. "We haven't finished brewing our Wolfsbane Potion from last time."
"Tch. I actually taught you lot Wolfsbane?" Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Clearly, I had far too much faith in your empty-headed aptitude for Potions… All attempts were failures. Including yours, Miss Know-It-All."
"So now that we're all clear, we'll be learning Shrinking Solution. Oh, and five points from Gryffindor. You should wait until I call on you."
Hermione stood frozen, her face burning red. Ron and Harry had to physically drag her back to her seat.
"Snape's just waiting for an excuse to dock points," Ron muttered. "You practically handed him one."
"I know," Hermione hissed. "But we got it right! The potion was pearl-white, with a silvery mist—exactly like the book said!"
"Maybe it was the ingredients," Harold said. "If the aconite wasn't harvested under a full moon with silver tools, it could've caused the potion to fail."
"But we used the ingredients Snape gave us," Hermione pointed out.
"That might be the problem," Harry chimed in. "What if he did it on purpose? So he'd have a reason to fail us."
Harold didn't speak during their discussion.
Yes, Snape had done it on purpose—but not to dock points. If that were his goal, he could've found hundreds of reasons without going to the expense.
Even the lowest-quality wolfsbane wasn't cheap. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝✶𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮✶𝓷𝓮𝓽
As Snape stepped down from the podium and began patrolling the aisles, Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly quieted and got to work preparing their ingredients.
Compared to the Wolfsbane Potion, Shrinking Solution was much simpler.
First, they chopped daisy roots into equal pieces and added them to water, stirring three times counterclockwise. Then came peeled shrivelfigs. After a thirty-minute wait, the final ingredient was finely sliced Flobberworms.
That last step was the trickiest. They had to slice a whole Flobberworm into parchment-thin strips.
For many students, this required a bit of courage.
But Harry and Ron were unbothered. After their detentions in the dungeons last year, Flobberworms no longer fazed them. They even offered to help Hermione.
But Hermione worked faster than either of them, and still found time to guide Neville, who had been singled out by Snape.
Snape had threatened to make Neville's toad drink his potion if it didn't turn out right.
At Neville's current skill level, poor Trevor was doomed. His only hope was Hermione's help.
She didn't disappoint.
By the end of class, Trevor let out a pop and shrank into a wriggling tadpole in Snape's palm.
Harold didn't understand why Shrinking Solution turned toads into tadpoles, but that was the correct outcome—and the Gryffindors erupted in cheers.
Snape looked annoyed and deducted another five points from Gryffindor, saying Neville hadn't brewed the potion independently.
No one cared. By now, they were used to it. A Potions class without point deductions would've been the real surprise.
As they left the dungeons, Ron grumbled that Hermione should've just said Neville made the potion himself.
But halfway through his complaint, he realized Hermione had vanished.
By the time everyone had made it back to the Entrance Hall, she finally came rushing up the stairs, bookbag in one hand, cramming her robes into a bag with the other.
"When did she fall behind us?"
"No idea," Harry said, glancing to the side.
There stood Harold, completely surrounded by students.
At first, Harold had jumped, instinctively reaching for his wand. But after a few minutes, he realized they were all there to order wands.
"You should thank Professor McGonagall," Fred explained over lunch. "She mentioned your wand during class today—said it was the most responsive one she's ever used."
"So that got everyone interested," George added, slathering butter on a roll. "And this is the perfect time. If they wait too long, they might not be able to supply the hair for the wand core."
"Why not?" Harry asked. "It's just hair."
"'Just hair'?" Fred gasped dramatically. "If Dad heard you say that, he'd cry."
Harry instantly pictured Mr. Weasley… who didn't exactly have much hair left.
"Speaking of…" Fred suddenly leaned toward Harry's head, scrutinizing the back of it. "Am I seeing things, or is there a bit of thinning…"
Harry straightened up in panic and started wildly running his hands through his hair.
"Stop teasing him," Harold said calmly, patting Fred on the shoulder. "Harry's only thirteen. He's not going bald."
Relieved, Harry let out a sigh.
So it was another Weasley brothers' prank! Thank goodness!
Fred, on the other hand, clicked his tongue. He hadn't been joking this time—Harry's hair had seemed a little thin.
But Harold was right. At thirteen, there was no way Harry would go bald like his dad.