Harold had known Sirius would come back, but he hadn't expected him to bring a gift. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on NovelHub(.)net
Garrick, on the other hand, wasn't too surprised—he just assumed the dog had snagged a present off one of the many Christmas trees outside the shops.
After all, it was Christmas Day, and nearly every storefront in Diagon Alley had a decorated tree with gifts dangling from its branches. Judging from the messy wrapping and slapdash ribbon, it was clear that whoever prepared this one hadn't put much care into it.
"It's nearly noon—should I get him something to eat?" Garrick asked, already treating the dog as part of the household.
"No need. Just make an extra portion for lunch," Harold replied, grabbing the excuse to head upstairs with Sirius.
The moment the door closed behind them, Sirius transformed back into his human form. If possible, he still preferred not to stay a dog longer than necessary.
"You'd better not show up too often in front of my grandfather," Harold warned in a low voice. "It's for your own good."
At first, Sirius waved it off. But when Harold mentioned that Garrick was also an Animagus, Sirius went stiff, realizing how dangerous things had just been.
After becoming an Animagus himself, Sirius had developed a reflex for spotting others—looking instinctively for subtle human traces in animal appearances.
It was almost a kind of sixth sense.
And Sirius's form wasn't exactly subtle—those steely gray eyes, the smooth fur around his neck that mirrored his once-groomed hair... any seasoned wizard might notice something was off.
Thankfully, ever since escaping Azkaban, he'd been scruffy and unkempt. Plus, Harold had dyed his fur, which helped disguise him.
"Ollivander knows how to be an Animagus?" Sirius muttered in disbelief.
"What kind of question is that?" Harold shot him a look. "My grandfather doesn't just make wands, you know. You think those ancient magical forests are holiday resorts or something?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Sirius quickly clarified. "It's just—Ollivander's always been associated with wands. Not exactly someone you picture wielding powerful magic. I'd bet ninety percent of the wizarding world thinks the same."
"That include me too?" Harold asked, raising a brow.
"You're different," Sirius said quickly. "Because of certain... experiences, I always see you as a prodigious wizard and forget that you also make wands."
Harold twitched at that, unsure if he should feel flattered or annoyed.
Maybe more annoyed—he always saw himself as a wandmaker, not some so-called genius wizard.
And it's not like his magical talent was all that special—he just had more tools at his disposal than most.
As he mulled it over, Harold opened the package Sirius had brought.
Inside was a blackish horn, about the size of a hand.
From the color alone, Harold's first thought was that it might be from an Erumpent.
Not to be confused with a unicorn—Erumpents were magical beasts that resembled massive rhinoceroses, with a long golden horn.
But no, this was too small. Erumpent horns could be up to five feet long and weigh as much as a grown wizard.
This one was palm-sized.
"What is this?" Harold asked.
"Supposedly a Graphorn horn," Sirius replied. "You use magical creatures to make wand cores, right? I found this and a few bones in the old house. I think they're all Graphorn."
Harold dug deeper into the box and pulled out a full Graphorn skull.
He froze for a moment.
A Graphorn… as far as he knew, no one in the magical world had seen a live one in ages—maybe not since the last century.
The last few were rumored to live in Newt Scamander's enchanted suitcase.
That's why anything related to Graphorns had become absurdly rare and valuable. Prices were skyrocketing, but good luck even finding any to buy.
"Even the Black family's old house has stuff ?" Harold muttered, staring at the skull.
To be honest, bones weren't ideal for wand cores—especially ancient ones of unknown age.
But the horn? That was promising.
"My great-grandfather's collection," Sirius said dismissively. "Along with a bunch of other junk. I'll toss it all one day."
Harold raised an eyebrow but didn't take the bait. Instead, he casually asked, "Thanks for the gift. So… what'd you get Harry?"
"Why don't you tell me?" Sirius asked, clearly amused. "Didn't you say you had a gift for prophecy? Surely this sort of thing isn't hard for you."
Harold gave him a sidelong glance. He couldn't tell if Sirius was being serious or just teasing.
But it didn't matter. Harold-style divination? He knew a thing or two.
"Well... I don't have a crystal ball, or tea leaves, and the fireplace is downstairs. Staring into flames up here would just look weird."
"Then use cards," he said, pulling out a deck of Exploding Snap cards and placing them on the table. "Draw one."
"Wait a second." Sirius frowned. "I've never taken Divination, but I'm pretty sure card readings use actual tarot cards. You're using Snap?"
"It's all I've got. Come on, it's still cards. Close enough." Harold grinned. "Pick one quick or they'll start blowing up!"
Once the deck was removed from its special case, the game had officially started—and dawdling while flipping cards would trigger a warning blast.
Sirius knew this and quickly flipped one over.
"A special card—Golden Lightning?"
Harold widened his eyes. "A special card means it's rare. Probably expensive. And golden lightning... sounds like a Golden Snitch or something related to Quidditch. Lightning implies speed."
"I got it!" Harold nodded with certainty. "It's a Firebolt—the fastest and most expensive broomstick on the market!"
"You—you actually guessed it!" Sirius gaped.
He hadn't even connected "golden lightning" to Firebolt himself.
"How'd you do that?" he asked, clearly baffled.
"I saw it," Harold shrugged. "Wasn't hard."
Yesterday evening, the Quidditch supply store had proudly announced that someone had anonymously ordered a Firebolt as a Christmas gift.
It was such a huge purchase, and the buyer hadn't revealed themselves. Who else could it have been but Sirius?
So Harold had known the answer all along. The fortune-telling act was just for show.
And if Sirius had flipped a completely different card, Harold would've spun that into "Firebolt" too. Golden Lightning just made it easier.
"Saw it, huh? That simple?" Sirius asked, flipping another card to try for himself.
Harold glanced at the card. It showed a crab with its shell covered in glittering gemstones.
A Fire Crab—another special card.
But instead of interpreting it, Harold immediately turned away and pulled his wide school robes over his head.
Half the Snap deck exploded at once.
Sirius was closest and got hit full force—his upper body blackened and his head smoked like a chimney.
"Explosion means trouble…" Harold lowered his robes. "Looks like Harry won't be using that gift anytime soon."
"No way," Sirius muttered, rubbing his face. "It's a Firebolt. He needs a good broom right now."
"Don't be so sure," Harold said with a shrug. "You'll see."