It was a perfectly ordinary Tuesday in the Gryffindor common room—by which I mean there were three exploding cauldrons, Neville’s plant had eaten a chessboard, and someone had charmed Ron’s hair to constantly change color like a magical mood ring.
“Has anyone seen my wand?” Harry asked, digging through the cushions of the couch. “It’s gone.”
Hermione sighed. “Harry, you can’t just lose your wand. It’s literally your most important magical tool.”
“Yeah, well,” Harry muttered, “last week I lost my broom and still managed to find a Niffler riding it.”
Just then, the portrait hole burst open. In waddled Draco Malfoy, of all people—except he wasn’t holding his wand either. He was holding Harry’s wand. And it was wearing a tiny knitted sweater.
“I can explain,” Draco began, looking extremely uncomfortable.
“I’d love to hear that explanation,” Hermione said, raising an eyebrow.
“It was Pansy’s idea!” Draco blurted. “We were doing some… wand fashion experiments.”
“Wand fashion?” Ron repeated slowly. “You dressed his wand in a sweater?”
“Yes! It’s trending in Slytherin!” Draco defended. “Your wand needs to feel confident before casting spells. Emotional resonance and all that.”
Before anyone could reply, Harry’s wand suddenly shot a jet of sparks into the air, knitted sweater and all.
“Oh no,” Draco muttered. “I might have enchanted it to sing ‘Weasley Is Our King’ whenever it’s happy.”
And so, the rest of the day, Harry’s wand sang loudly and proudly—during class, during meals, and most unfortunately, during Snape’s lecture on proper potion etiquette.
By dinner, Harry decided maybe it wasn’t so bad. Sure, his wand was now a part-time fashion icon and part-time choir member, but at least it was back.
And that was the day Harry learned a valuable lesson: never, ever let Draco Malfoy near your magical possessions… unless you want them to have better style than you.
