Harold's plan was a good one, but by the next morning, he still found himself gripping the Portkey Garrick handed him.He had overlooked one important detail: besides the famous dragon sanctuary, Romania was also home to the finest Dragonblood Wood in the entire magical world.
Harold could ignore dragon heartstrings, but he couldn't possibly ignore Dragonblood Wood — especially after unintentionally crafting that special wand.
He touched the wand in his pocket, about the length of his finger.Good thing Garrick Ollivander didn't know what was inside that wand, or he might have cracked on the spot — and where would that leave any trip to Romania?
"Ready?" Garrick glanced at the time. "Our slot is for ten o'clock, so let's move."
"Three... two... one..."
It felt like an invisible force yanked Harold upward. His feet left the ground, his body hurtling forward at an incredible speed.The wind howled past his ears, the world blurred, and familiar sights of Diagon Alley — shops, streets, everything — flashed past him like lightning in reverse.
Harold had used a Portkey before. It was a handy magical artifact, requiring no Apparition skills and far more convenient than the Floo Network or the Knight Bus — Garrick and Lila had always preferred it for trips.But he'd only ever used it around Britain. This was his first time taking a Portkey across more than a thousand miles.
He had no idea how long he was dragged through the air — it felt endless. His head spun, his stomach churned.Finally, his feet slammed back onto solid ground. Harold staggered, barely managing to keep his balance, and finally looked around.
Beneath him stretched a wide, lush meadow — soft grass cushioned his steps; even a fall wouldn't have hurt much.In the distance rose a range of endless mountains, encircled by an ocean of forest. The air was heavy with a pungent smell of sulfur.
"Welcome to Romania. Hard to forget that smell, huh?" Garrick said, landing neatly beside him and giving Harold a hearty clap on the shoulder.
"How are you holding up?"
"Still getting used to it," Harold said, rubbing his nose as the sulfur stench grew stronger. It was like standing beside a volcano ready to blow.
"My first time here, I felt the same," Garrick chuckled. "Oh — someone's coming to meet us."
A burly man came jogging out from the woods ahead.
"So it really is you, Garrick!"The man looked to be in his sixties or seventies, but his body was powerful, his arms covered in scars — some healed, some still fresh. Clearly, he'd been through a lot recently.
He gave Garrick a rough hug. "Shouldn't you be back in Diagon Alley, fitting young Hogwarts students for their wands?"
"Enrollment letters haven't gone out yet," Garrick replied.
"Ah, right. It's only July."
Harold watched them from the side.
"Oh, let me introduce you," Garrick said. "This is Alistair Barkley, an old friend of mine — a senior dragon handler here for the past thirty years."
"Hello," Harold stepped forward. "I'm Harold Ollivander."
"Good to meet you," said Alistair, shaking his hand — his grip felt like grabbing a slab of unpolished dragon hide.
"Ollivander..."Alistair cast a thoughtful glance at Garrick. "He's Garion and Lila's son, isn't he?"
"I've heard about you — the son who inherited the Ollivander gift for wand-making. Though..."He suddenly lowered his voice, "Garrick, you know the sanctuary only works with one official wand shop, right? You remember that?"
"Of course I do. I'm not retiring anytime soon," Garrick said easily.
"You sure?"Alistair gave him a suspicious look, then added, "And the sanctuary doesn't sell materials to individuals."
He didn't know Harold well, but he knew what Garrick had been like in his younger days — nothing short of ruthless when it came to securing dragon heartstrings and nerve fibers.Alistair, fresh out of training back then, had learned some hard lessons at Garrick's hands — experience that later made him a nightmare for smugglers.
"Relax. He's just starting his second year at Hogwarts," Garrick said. "Even if you did sell him something, he couldn't afford it."
Alistair still looked skeptical.
"I'll leave him outside when we go look at the Ukrainian Ironbelly," Garrick promised.
"So you did hear about it!" Alistair snorted. "That's why you're here today, huh? How the hell does everyone know? We've already had a dozen people show up!"
"First was Headmaster Albus Dumbledore — he came with Newt Scamander."
"Dumbledore... I should have come sooner."
Alistair let out a dry laugh.
"Come on, take me to it!" Garrick urged. "I promise — every child who uses a dragon-core wand will thank you!"
"You've fed me that line a hundred times..." Alistair grumbled. "Plenty of poachers out there use dragon-core wands, too."
Still, he led Garrick toward the sanctuary's center. After all, most dragon handlers — himself included — relied on dragon-core wands.
He didn't leave Harold standing around alone, either. Though this wasn't the sanctuary's most dangerous zone, it wasn't exactly safe.
"Someone will come find you soon," Alistair told Harold, sizing him up again.Good-looking, polite, and had stood quietly while the adults talked — much better first impression than Garrick ever made.
"Good luck, kid," Alistair added with a smile. "Hope we get to work together soon." Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⟡𝕗𝗂𝗋𝖾⟡𝕟𝕖𝕥