During the year-end feast that evening, something no one expected happened—Gryffindor, who had been dead last in the House Cup standings, suddenly shot to the top and snatched victory away from Slytherin.
Dumbledore counted everything that had happened in the underground chambers. First, he awarded Harold Ollivander one hundred points for risking his life to lure the enraged three-headed dog away from the castle, protecting most of the student body in the process.
That alone catapulted Gryffindor from last place all the way to second.
Then came the points for Ron, Hermione, and Harry—fifty points each for their bravery in protecting the Philosopher's Stone.
Even Neville earned ten points for standing his ground, though by the time the points reached Harry, Gryffindor had already surpassed Slytherin and clinched the House Cup.
The Gryffindor table erupted into celebration, and the party continued late into the night.
Harold was more than happy to join in—his dorm had become far too cold for comfort lately, and the warm common room was a much better place to be.
It wasn't until the festivities wound down near dawn that Harold returned to his dorm, heart still pounding with excitement.
There was good news. After so much testing, the dragonblood wood had proven completely unaffected by the Voldemort fragment. It was the perfect wand wood for it.
But the results may have been… a little too perfect.
As the exhausted students slipped into dreams and the castle settled into stillness, the calm was shattered by a piercing explosion.
At least a dozen windows were blown out, and Hogwarts lit up like a Christmas tree.
Even more terrifying—several half-awake Gryffindors looked out their shattered windows and saw a creature glowing with blue light, shaped like a unicorn… and next to it, a face so grotesque no one could describe it.
Merlin's beard—this was the eighth floor! What unicorn could fly?
Before they could get a better look, the creature vanished into the night, leaving only chaos in its wake.
Within minutes, the professors arrived.
But the event had come and gone too quickly for anyone to understand what had happened. All they knew was that the blast had originated somewhere near the Gryffindor common room, which had taken the brunt of the damage—nearly every dorm window was shattered.
Ravenclaw had fared a little better—about half their windows were destroyed.
Hufflepuff and Slytherin, safe in their basement dorms, were untouched.
Professor McGonagall, still in her nightgown, immediately turned a suspicious gaze on Harold.
She couldn't help it—Harold had a record. His last magical mishap with the two-foot wand had woken half the castle. Thıs text ıs hosted at 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭·𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦·𝘯𝘦𝘵
This time? He'd woken all of it.
Faced with McGonagall's scrutiny, Harold simply opened his dormitory door.
Nothing unusual. The damage inside was no worse than what others had experienced. The desks and shelves were splintered, yes, but so were everyone else's.
McGonagall pressed her lips together, unconvinced. Her instincts screamed that Harold was involved. Especially since some students kept sneaking glances at him.
Sure, stares weren't evidence—but she made a mental note of them all. Until they found the culprit, Harold Ollivander remained Suspect Number One.
Perhaps because the holidays were just around the corner, the professors didn't press the matter. A few upper-years helped repair the damage, and the staff dispersed.
The castle only quieted down after another hour of murmuring and theories.
But the mystery wasn't over.
The next day, as students packed their trunks and headed to the Hogsmeade Station, the buzz was all about the blue unicorn.
"Unicorns aren't blue, and they can't fly," said Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff, trying to debunk the Gryffindors' wild claims with actual knowledge of magical creatures.
But the Gryffindors swore they had seen it.
Their claims might've been laughed off—until a group of Ravenclaws stepped forward with matching stories.
Unlike the bold Gryffindors, Ravenclaws rarely exaggerated, and certainly not en masse. Yet twenty or thirty of them confirmed seeing the exact same thing.
"I know it sounds crazy," said Cherill, a second-year Ravenclaw, her eyes shining. "But I saw it with my own eyes. It flew past our window—it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Its blue coat shimmered like starlight."
When Cedric tried to refute her again, Cherill cut him off.
"If you didn't see it yourself, don't be so quick to dismiss it. This is Hogwarts. Magic makes anything possible, right?"
Cedric hesitated. He couldn't argue with that.
And now, even he was beginning to doubt himself. Could flying blue unicorns really exist in the wizarding world?
Maybe it was time to ask his dad at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
Meanwhile, on a second-floor corridor…
"So it was you!" Fred and George cornered Harold, who was just heading downstairs.
"What did I do?" Harold blinked innocently.
"The unicorn, of course," Fred said, stepping closer. "You've been acting shady for days. Barely left your dorm."
"And something happened during the Christmas holidays too," George added.
"Your dorm was a mess then. Now it's a mess again. Coincidence?"
"Don't try to fool us. We're not as easy as the professors."
Normally, Harold might've smirked and owned up with a cheeky "So what? You gonna tell on me?"
But not today. He was too tired to banter. He waved them off with a vague excuse and walked past.
The twins exchanged a look. Harold looked awful. Pale. Worn out. Like Harry did after the whole Philosopher's Stone ordeal.
So they didn't push it.
"We'll come visit during break," they called after him. "You said you live in the wand shop on Diagon Alley, right?"
For families connected to the Floo Network, that wasn't far at all.
Harold didn't answer. He was already gone.
He had more important things to deal with.