Free Web NovelHow Much for the Wand?
Harry was utterly baffled, like a monk trying to scratch his head through a hood.
"You're a dark wizard. Shouldn't you be buying a wand in Knockturn Alley?" he said, eyeing the figure before him.
Then he glanced down at the wand in his hand and at his own black cloak, realization dawning.
To be fair, the wands crafted by the Weasley twins were classics—so authentic-looking they could fool almost anyone. If you placed a bundle of their wands in Ollivanders' shop, even Ollivander himself might struggle to tell them apart from the real thing.
But…
No matter how convincing they looked, they were still fakes. The moment you channeled magic through one and tried to cast a spell, it would transform into a quacking rubber duck.
That was their fatal flaw.
With this in mind, Harry lowered his voice and said, "Five Galleons, but these are one-use wands."
He wasn't lying. The toy wands were one-use, which is why the Weasley twins sold them for just four Sickles—three Sickles for labor, one Sickle for materials. Hardly expensive.
"One-use wands?"
The dark wizards' faces lit up at Harry's words.
Well, now, one-use wands? That's perfect…
"How many do you have?" one of the dark wizards asked. "Let me see one first. I want to test it…"
"As I said," Harry replied, his eyes glinting with a sudden idea.
As he spoke, he slipped a hand into his pouch and pulled out a wand he'd previously confiscated from another dark wizard. With a subtle flick, he cast a trigger charm on it—one that would cause the wand to self-destruct the moment it was used.
Once the charm was set, Harry handed the tampered "one-use" wand to the dark wizard.
"Go ahead and try it, sir," he said smoothly. "But you'll still need to pay."
The dark wizard waved a hand dismissively. "No worries. If it meets my standards, money's no issue!"
With that, he took the wand from Harry.
"Lumos!"
A red glow flared at the wand's tip. The dark wizard, seeing the spell take effect, broke into a satisfied grin.
He flicked the wand again, aiming at a nearby pile of leaves. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
This time, however, the spell didn't work. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
The wand emitted a faint sizzling sound, and under the dark wizard's pleased gaze, it crumbled into ash.
"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"
The dark wizard's praise came in a rush, unstinting despite his limited vocabulary.
A wand like this was perfect for their grand plans, wasn't it? A one-use wand that incinerated itself after casting—leaving no trace for the Ministry's meddling Aurors to track. Could there be a more perfect tool?
"This is exactly what I need," he said eagerly. "So, how many do you have in stock? I need a lot—a huge amount."
Harry mentally tallied the numbers. How many had the twins brought? Charlie took five, Ron grabbed six, and he had five himself… That left at least thirty or so.
"I've only got five on me," Harry told the dark wizard. "You know how it is—sensitive merchandise."
"Understood, understood," the dark wizard said, his face practically screaming I get it.
Harry thought to himself, You don't get a bloody thing, but his expression remained neutral. He handed over the five wands. "Twenty-five Galleons."
The dark wizard didn't hesitate, promptly pulling out twenty-five gold coins and pressing them into Harry's hand.
Harry tucked the coins away and said, "Wait here. I'll go grab more for you."
"Alright," the dark wizard nodded.
Harry wove through the bustling campsite, searching until he finally spotted the twins hawking their wares.
It was clear the fake wands weren't exactly flying off the shelves—the twins' stock hadn't dwindled at all.
When George saw Harry approaching, he waved. "Back so soon?"
"Sold out," Harry said, spreading his hands. "Twenty-five Galleons, here you go…"
He pulled the coins from his pouch and handed them to the twins.
"You didn't just ditch the wands somewhere, did you?" they asked suspiciously. "Sold out that fast? Merlin's beard…"
"The generous buyer wants more," Harry said with a grin. "If you don't believe me, Fred, come see for yourself. Just… disguise yourself a bit."
The twins finally noticed Harry's odd getup, and their playful instincts kicked in. Something fun was afoot.
"Count us in!" they said in unison. "Hold on, we've got thirty more. Ron and Charlie went nuts—they didn't sell a single one. They came back right after you left, saying they were off with the Malfoys to get autographs from the Bulgarian team."
"Those two are hopeless," Harry said, joining in their criticism. "Hand over the wands. Who's coming with me?"
"I'll go," Fred said. "Got another one of those black cloaks? Looks pretty cool…"
"Cover your red hair," Harry added. "We're dealing with dark wizards, and that red mop of yours doesn't exactly scream 'dark wizard.'"
He had a point. For whatever reason, red-haired dark wizards were as rare as phoenix feathers.
"Got it." Fred flashed an OK sign and slipped on the black cloak Harry handed him.
Both donned hoods and masks, looking every bit the part of shady dealers.
They returned to where the dark wizard waited, still lingering as promised.
Seeing them approach, the dark wizard tensed, but relaxed when he recognized Harry. He glanced around warily, then whispered, "Got the goods?"
"Right here," Harry said, giving Fred a nod to hand over the batch of wands.
The dark wizard inspected each one, sensing the magic within.
"Pure quality," he said with an approving nod. "Thirty-five in total? Perfect. I'll pay now."
Harry had half-expected him to haggle, but the dark wizard counted out the coins without fuss.
"Here's one hundred seventy-five Galleons," he said. "Check it. If there's nothing else, I'll be off." freewēbnoveℓ.com
"Pleasure doing business," Harry replied with a nod.
Fred stood there, stunned, until the dark wizard vanished into the crowd. Then he stomped his foot, practically shouting, "Merlin's pants! Mother of Merlin! You sold four-Sickle wands for five Galleons each! With a one-Sickle cost, that's… an eighty-five-fold profit! Eighty-five times!"
His math checked out, thanks to the wizarding world's quirky exchange rates: one Galleon equaled seventeen Sickles, so five Galleons was indeed eighty-five Sickles.
"I've always thought," Harry said, shaking his head, "I've got a knack for business. Don't you agree?"
"Knack?" Fred slung an arm around Harry's shoulders as they walked back. "You're a bloody genius, mate. I'm giving you four Galleons per wand as commission, my star salesman."
"No need," Harry said with a sly wink. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is still in its early days. You need to reinvest the funds. Those wands were your idea, after all. But if you insist on rewarding me, how about ten percent of the company?"
"Thirty!" Fred declared, clapping Harry's shoulder. "You're a key part of this operation. It's settled, yeah?"
"Sounds perfect," Harry said, grinning.
When they returned and told George about the eighty-five-fold profit, he looked at Harry like he was Merlin reincarnated.
"You're my hero, mate!" George said, awestruck.
Harry waved it off modestly, as if it were nothing.
They wandered the campsite for a bit until Ginny came running up.
"Don't you lot need to head back?" she said urgently. "Dad's been looking for you—the match is about to start!"
"Alright, Ginny," Fred said, waving an Irish badge. "Check out what we got—Irish team badges! Here, take one."
"Oh," Ginny said, pinning it to her chest.
"Let's go," she urged again. "Dad's about to lose it!"
"Relax, Ginny," Fred said, rolling his eyes. "You're starting to sound like Mum, you know that?"
"That's because you're always the troublesome son!" Ginny shot back, her words sharp. Clearly, this wasn't her first time sparring with them.
They rejoined the family at the tent and headed toward the Quidditch stadium. Mr. Weasley and Sirius led the way, everyone clutching their purchases as they followed the lantern-lit path through the woods.
They could hear thousands of people moving around them—shouts, laughter, and snatches of song filling the air. After twenty minutes of joking and chatting, they emerged from the woods into the shadow of a massive stadium.
Harry could only see part of the golden walls, but it was clear the place could hold ten cathedrals with room to spare.
"Seats a hundred thousand," Mr. Weasley said, noticing Mr. Granger's stunned expression. "Five hundred Ministry workers spent a year on this. Every inch is charmed with Muggle-Repelling Charms. Whenever a Muggle gets close, they suddenly remember urgent business and leave. God bless 'em."
"But those won't affect you," he added to the Grangers. "Muggle-Repelling Charms don't work on you lot."
He led them to the nearest entrance, where a Ministry witch checked their tickets. "Top Box! Keep climbing, Arthur, all the way to the top—right-hand side."
The stairs to the stadium were carpeted in purple, and they ascended with the crowd, which gradually split off into the stands. Mr. Weasley's group kept climbing until they reached the top, finding themselves in a small box overlooking the golden goalposts.
About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs were arranged in two rows. Harry followed the Weasleys, taking a seat in the front row and gazing down at the breathtaking scene.
A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their seats, the tiered stands circling the oval pitch. From their lofty perch, the field looked smooth as velvet. At each end stood three fifty-foot-high goal hoops. To their right, almost level with Harry's view, was a massive blackboard flashing golden words, as if an invisible hand were scribbling and erasing them.
Harry squinted and realized the words were advertisements for the crowd:
Bluebottle: The Broom for the Whole Family—Safe, Reliable, with Built-In Anti-Theft Buzzer…
Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Stain Remover: No Stain, No Pain!
Gladrags Wizardwear—London, Paris, Hogsmeade…
George and Fred stared at the billboard, entranced, leaning against the railing. Fred nudged George. "One day, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes will have an ad up there at the World Cup!"
"Hah," George said, patting Fred's arm. "That's the dream. But we can't let Mum find out—not yet."
Meanwhile, in a shadowed box elsewhere…
"Atkinson," a wizard cloaked in darkness spoke. "How's the task I gave you?"
"Taken care of, Crouch," Atkinson replied. "I found the perfect wands—ideal for executing our plan."
If Harry had been in that box, he'd have recognized Atkinson instantly.
He was the dark wizard who'd just bought the fake wands.
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