On Christmas morning, Garrick finally returned, weary and travel-worn. Dew and fallen leaves still clung to his robes—it was obvious he'd co straight from so forest.
"rry Christmas," he said with a smile, handing Harold a round brown stone.
"This is your gift—an amber ford from the resin of a Huajiu tree. I thought you might like it."
The amber was no bigger than a Knut, brown in color, but when held under sunlight, it glowed with a dazzling golden light, shimring like a starlit sky.
But what really caught Harold's attention was sothing else Garrick said.
"Resin from a Huajiu tree… So you actually found the Huajiu Forest?"
"On Halloween, actually," Garrick said, smiling. "I must say, that journey was truly eye-opening. We never imagined a forest could be so magical."
Harold's curiosity only deepened. What kind of forest could make even Garrick and Gregorovitch—two of the most experienced wandmakers alive—spend over a year searching and still call it wondrous?
But then Garrick displayed a very frustrating trait common to adult wizards.
"Oh, Harold, a place like that—well, it's sothing you must see for yourself," he said with a wink, clearly not planning to elaborate.
Harold suddenly felt like he was six again—back when Garrick had convinced him that Hogwarts sorting required negotiating with four Bowtruckles, each representing a different house.
Then when he was eight, the story changed—now you had to extract a dragon heartstring to get sorted.
At ten, it beca a requirent to identify a hundred different types of wood.
Each version sounded more sincere than the last—and all of it was nonsense. Now Garrick wasn't even bothering to lie creatively.
Harold was dying to see this so-called legendary Huajiu Forest—but there was no way he could spend over a year tracking it down. Even if he were willing, Hogwarts would never allow it. Once the holiday ended, he'd have to return to school.
"Fine," Harold said with a sigh. "I'll go see it myself soday. But for now, hand it over."
"I already gave you your gift," Garrick said, puzzled.
"I an the Huajiu wood," Harold clarified. "Don't tell you didn't bring any back."
"You probably won't believe , but I really didn't," Garrick said, holding up his hands. Before Harold could question him, he explained, "There were no Bowtruckles there."
The Ollivander family had always followed one rule when gathering wand wood—it must be exchanged with Bowtruckles. Only wood that had been willingly offered by Bowtruckles was worthy of becoming a wand.
No Bowtruckles ant no trade. And Garrick, being who he was, likely took nothing at all.
Now it made sense—why he'd returned from that fad Huajiu Forest with only a bit of amber.
Sure, the amber was beautiful, but Garrick had never given Harold a decorative gift before.
"If I'd known, I wouldn't have co ho for Christmas this year," Harold muttered.
"Oh, don't say that," Garrick said with a chuckle. "Hope is a beautiful thing. And I swear, once you see that place, you won't be disappointed."
"But I'm only in third year. Even if I used every holiday, I still wouldn't have ti to find it," Harold said. "And you're obviously not going to tell where it is, are you?"
Garrick only gave a kind smile. "It doesn't really have an address. You'll have to find it yourself."
"Right," Harold sighed. "Anyway, in your letter, you ntioned sothing strange had happened to you. Maybe I can help figure it out?"
Garrick clearly wanted to change the subject, and Harold knew it—but he had no choice but to let it go.
So instead, he told Garrick about how his wand inscription speed had drastically increased.
"That sounds like a good thing," Garrick said at first, echoing exactly what Ron had said—until Harold demonstrated.
As Harold quickly inscribed rune after rune, Garrick's smile faded. His expression grew increasingly serious.
In just fifteen minutes, the wand shaft was complete—a speed nearly matching Garrick's own.
"Could it be related to your Ancient Runes class?" Garrick asked. "Didn't you choose that this year?"
"I don't think so," Harold shook his head. "We've barely gotten past identifying basic runes. It's had almost no effect."
Ancient Runes was just the formal na for magical script.
Harold had already mastered all the basic ones by the age of ten. Honestly, he would've dropped the class already if there weren't so few students in it.
Garrick crossed his arms and began pacing around the narrow wand shop.
Then suddenly he stopped.
"Did this new skill co on suddenly?" he asked. "One day, you just found yourself able to inscribe perfectly?"
"Not exactly," Harold replied. "But I did feel like I've been becoming more and more familiar with the runes lately."
"And in other areas? Like… your magical power?" Garrick asked next.
"My magic? I don't think that's changed."
Without saying a word, Garrick handed Harold a wand and asked him to cast the Knockback Jinx—at full strength.
"Don't hold back," Garrick said, drawing his own wand. "Pretend we're testing your wand."
Hearing that, Harold didn't hesitate. He raised Silvermane and cast:
"Expulso!"
Garrick deflected it with a quick flick, but still stumbled back a step.
"You okay?" Harold hurried over.
"I'm fine," Garrick said, waving him off. Then he looked Harold in the eye and said, "I think I know what's going on."
"What is it?"
"It's an ancient legend," Garrick said slowly, guiding Harold into the storeroom and pulling out a book so old it had lost all color. Based on what Harold knew of this place, the book had to be at least a thousand years old.
"I should've realized earlier—especially after seeing your exceptional talent," Garrick said, flipping to a specific page.
"There's a legend that rlin, in gratitude for a wand Ollivander made for him, once made a special prophecy."
"rlin could make prophecies?" Harold blurted out—then imdiately realized how dumb that sounded.
"Right, right… What did the prophecy say?"
"No one knows the full prophecy anymore," Garrick said. "But one part of it was passed down through the generations."
He pointed to a line on the page and read:
'The wand he makes shall be its own everlasting kindling; the recognition of others shall make his magic stronger.'
"What does that an?" Harold frowned.
"It ans," Garrick said, eting Harold's gaze, "if soone truly accepts and uses a wand you made, that recognition can make you stronger."
"Their recognition… makes stronger?" Harold blinked. "That can't be right. I don't feel any stronger. My magic's the sa—I just carve runes faster."
"Inscribing runes requires magic too," Garrick said.
"But still…"
"Maybe think about it this way," Garrick said, closing the book. "How did Harry Potter defeat the Dark Lord? Maybe that will help you understand."
(End of Chapter)
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