Though he understood, Lupin hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. "This time, I'll have to say no, Mr. Ollivander. The Kappa's claws are poisonous. As a teacher, I have a duty to not let you handle something so dangerous." This update ıs available on 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝~𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖~𝕟𝕖𝕥
"What if I don't want the claws?" Harold asked. "I mean, what if I only want its heart? That should be fine, right?"
"Its heart…" Lupin's expression gradually turned serious. "What do you want a Kappa's heart for?"
This question immediately reminded him of something odd—how exactly had the Kappa died?
At the time, he'd been teaching Harry the Water-Making Charm and hadn't seen what happened. A few girls had screamed, drawing his attention. When he looked back, the Kappa was already on the ground. Several students said it had leapt at Harold, then thudded to the ground as if struck by the Killing Curse.
But Lupin was certain Harold hadn't used Avada Kedavra. That curse had very distinct characteristics—any witch or wizard could recognize it instantly.
So what spell had Harold used? Something capable of killing a Kappa in an instant?
"I want the heart for wandmaking, of course," Harold replied, which made Lupin freeze, his earlier suspicions fading by half.
"Of course. I am a wandmaker."
"Oh, right! You're an Ollivander!" Lupin looked like he had only just recalled Harold's surname.
"But… can a Kappa be used for wand cores?" he asked, still puzzled.
"Absolutely. If Red Caps can be used, why not Kappas?" Harold replied casually. "Though I haven't tried yet, I'll need to experiment."
Lupin's doubts only deepened.
Had he really been away from Diagon Alley that long? Since when could dark creatures like Red Caps be used for wand cores?
Still, in the end, he gave Harold the Kappa—he figured it was fair compensation for his own earlier overthinking. Mistaking an Ollivander for a Dark wizard hadn't been his finest moment.
Not that Harold cared. Even his interest in the Kappa was a spur-of-the-moment thing. While technically a dark creature, it wasn't especially valuable. In Knockturn Alley, a Kappa heart fetched around two Galleons—hardly worth the trouble.
Red Caps were better bang for your buck.
Still, since he'd come across one, and Lupin had no plans to sell it, Harold figured he might as well take it and play around.
Back in the dormitory, however, the whole Kappa business slipped his mind.
After everything that had happened recently, he finally had time to return to his original goal—finishing his enchanted broomstick.
But when Harold pulled out the parchment where he'd recorded his rune formulas, he was surprised to find an extra sheet among them.
It was filled with handwritten runes, but written in flowing cursive—nothing like his own script. No, this looked exactly like the handwriting of his grandfather… or rather, it was from his grandfather, Garrick Ollivander.
Harold examined it closely and realized that it was a completely new formula, one he'd never seen before—seventy-seven runes in total.
He sat down and began translating them one by one.
Similar to wand-engraved runes, but included some unfamiliar ones: Expansion, Balance, Extension…
Wasn't this exactly the kind of rune formula he'd been trying to design before the school year started? One that could adapt to longer wand shafts?
Harold reread the parchment—later sections showed slight variations, changes in rune order that covered all the potential issues larger wand handles might encounter.
If only he'd thought to ask Garrick sooner. Clearly, his grandfather's experience far outmatched his own.
Then again, thinking back, his original motivation for tinkering with broomsticks had been little more than nerves and a need to distract himself.
Whatever. Harold pulled out the broomstick he'd half-dismantled weeks ago and began engraving the most promising runes from the parchment into the split broom handle.
The process was a bit tedious—he couldn't just engrave them all at once. If one rune didn't fit, he might not find another compatible broom handle.
So he started with the most crucial ones, saving the uncertain runes for test handles later.
Large wand handles were far trickier than normal ones. After days of nonstop carving, Harold's wrist was starting to ache. Luckily, classes gave him a chance to rest a bit.
Especially Divination.
Harold was starting to really like Divination. It was such a simple class—whether reading tea leaves, fire omens, or crystal balls, the answers always seemed to be sitting right there. All he had to do was glance at the book and recite what it said.
Professor Trelawney never disagreed with him, either.
And thanks to Harold's example, Harry was catching on too.
Sure, he didn't have the answers laid out in front of him, but no one else knew that. All he had to do was confidently invent a plausible and complete prophecy.
"I see a treasure hoard… glittering with gold," Harry said solemnly, staring into the flickering flames. "It means you're about to receive an unexpected windfall."
He wasn't just making things up—Harry had logic behind his prediction.
Harold had made over 500 Galleons recently from wandmaking, and students were still placing orders. By the time class ended, that "prophecy" might well come true.
And even if it didn't, Harry figured he could just give Harold some Galleons for Christmas and make it come true retroactively.
He couldn't help but admire his own brilliance. Harold was right—Divination was an easy subject.
Another class he was growing fond of was Care of Magical Creatures—if he could just get past the whole three-headed dog thing.
Hagrid seemed determined to help Fluffy make new friends. For a whole month straight, he brought the massive dog to every class.
Like a small hill, Fluffy would lie there while the students watched in terror. A few particularly timid ones even asked their Heads of House if they could switch electives.
Of course, it was too late in the term to change. But by early October, Professor McGonagall finally stepped in and told Hagrid he wasn't allowed to bring Fluffy to class anymore.
October also marked the start of Quidditch practice. Three nights a week, the team trained late into the evening.
Watching their dedication, Harold felt motivated to speed up his broomstick project. He wanted to give them all a surprise.
After all, what's so exciting about chasing a few balls? It'd be way more fun with a little magic thrown in.
Flying on a broom makes casting spells awkward?
No problem—he was just about to fix that.
After two weeks of testing, Harold had finally nailed down the perfect rune configuration. All he needed was one final test, and then he could engrave it onto the broom handle.
At that point, who'd care about Firebolts?
Speed? Please. No broom was faster than a spell.