Chapter 114: The Gift for Hagrid

Silven hadn't expected Hagrid to have prepared something for him.

The bag was filled with magical creature materials he'd recently collected—hair, scales, feathers, even unknown bones—plenty of them, heavy to carry.

At the same time, Silven also took out his own gift… a wooden rod over two feet long.

The moment it was pulled from the shape-shifting lizard skin bag, it thudded onto the floor, denting it.

"This is…" Hagrid initially thought it was a Beater's bat, but the weight felt wrong—he'd never seen a bat that could dent the floor.

"Wand," Silven flexed his wrist slightly. "The core—you've seen it. That complete troll spine."

"Troll… Merlin's beard, you actually turned that into a wand?" Hagrid stared at Silven, stepping forward involuntarily.

Hagrid knew Silven planned to make the bone into a core, but he never thought he could succeed.

He remembered the thing was still nearly three feet long—how could it possibly be made into a core like unicorn tail hair?

And now Silven said he'd done it?

Hagrid couldn't help walking over to examine the bat closely.

Though its length did match, he still found it hard to believe.

"Is this really a wand?" Hagrid asked, unable to contain his doubt.

"Authentic," Silven said. "But unlike traditional wands, this one can only cast the Shield Charm—but it has advantages."

Silven explained the wand's features in under a minute… really, just one sentence.

As long as you channel magic, it automatically casts the Shield Charm on you—but nothing else.

Such an unusual wand left Hagrid astonished—he'd never seen a wand that could cast only one spell, yet the fact it required no incantation or gesture was truly compelling.

"This is my gift," Silven said. "I planned to give it to you at Christmas, but the weight might be too much for an owl."

"Ah? No, I can't accept it," Hagrid quickly shook his head. "You know, I already have a wand."

As he spoke, he glanced unconsciously at the cabinet in the corner—Silven's repaired wand from last year still sat inside, now far easier to use.

"Different one," Silven looked at him. "You can use the other one daily. This one's best for combat. Didn't you ever use a wand when you fought Death Eaters ten years ago?"

"That's true… wait, how do you know that?" Hagrid froze.

He'd fought Death Eaters before Voldemort fell—Silven was barely a few months old then.

"Headmaster Dumbledore told me."

Oh, that explained it—he really hadn't used a wand when fighting Death Eaters.

It was just too troublesome: find the enemy, locate their position, chant the spell, aim, flick your wrist—he wasn't good at it, always messed up when flustered.

Better to just charge through their curses and punch them into the wall.

"You're a wizard, Hagrid, not a true giant," Silven slung the troll wand over his shoulder. "Magic is your greatest advantage—why not try it?"

"The Shield Charm will further strengthen your body, and this heavy wand can double as a weapon—perfectly suited for you."

"Still no," Hagrid kept shaking his head. "Too valuable. In Knockturn Alley, unprocessed troll spines cost thirty Galleons each."

"But that spine was originally given to me by you," Silven adjusted his step. "... Help me carry this, it's really heavy."

"Ah, sure," Hagrid easily took the wand from Silven's shoulder, holding it as lightly as a quill.

"How does it feel?" Silven asked.

"It's… it's fine," Hagrid said, expression surprised.

The wand looked small, but its weight matched his six-foot stone bow—slightly light as a weapon, but still comfortable.

Hagrid swung it again; the wand hissed through the air like a roaring troll.

"This wand truly suits you," Silven nodded approvingly. "Others struggle just to hold it—you handle it effortlessly."

"Try casting the Engorgement Charm," Silven continued. "You know that one, right? Normal pumpkins don't grow to the size of a carriage."

Hagrid's mind flashed a spell—but before he could chant, the wand suddenly flared a bluish-gray light.

It began at the tip, then shot faster to the butt, finally sinking into Hagrid's palm.

"Hum…"

Before Hagrid appeared a faint, bluish-gray barrier.

"This is…"

"That's the Shield Charm," Silven said. He'd never seen one so visibly pronounced—Hagrid's body nearly glowed.

Feeling the change, Hagrid himself was speechless—if not for the clear magic flowing from the wand, he'd have thought Silven cast it.

No incantation needed… no aiming required… Hagrid's eyes flickered with desire.

Even if it could cast only one spell, it was enough for him—he'd always fought enemies with his fists anyway.

"It seems to have chosen you," Silven smiled, recalling the speed of the Shield Charm. "If you think the wand lacks offensive power, you could try turning it into an axe—or another weapon—as long as you don't damage the shaft."

Hearing Silven's words, Hagrid instantly forgot his intention to refuse.

"Turn it into another weapon… what do you mean?"

"Literally," Silven pointed his wand at a tea towel on the nearby table.

The towel transformed into a gleaming axe blade, which Silven guided to land atop the troll wand.

Instantly, the wand became an axe—resembling the stone statues in the castle, though shorter.

"Something like that," Silven said. "To match the troll spine, I thickened the oak shaft—reduced flexibility and stealth, but greatly increased durability. Perfect as a haft."

"Professor Dumbledore could probably attach a blade without harming the shaft. Of course, if you prefer another weapon, that's fine too."

"Goodbye, Hagrid. I'll visit again when I have time."

Before Hagrid could recover from the absurd suggestion, Silven had already returned to the castle and was eating lunch.

He'd long wanted to give Hagrid the troll wand. Though its property could shield him from explosions during Dragonblood wood wand crafting, it would also make him dependent.

Silven believed his high failure rate with Dragonblood wood wands stemmed from never fearing explosion damage.

If you're never at risk from explosions, how could you ever take them seriously?

Silven gave it to Hagrid, which had its pros and cons.

……

In the afternoon, Harry returned, bringing news of the house-elf Dobby.

"So Malfoy's house-elf did all this?" Ron's voice rose, as if hearing the biggest joke imaginable.

"It blocked the platform entrance to keep you off the train, and made the bludgers hit your head—just to save you?"

"That's what it said…"

"Do you believe it?"

Harry said nothing; he found it incomprehensible, yet deep down he felt Dobby hadn't lied to him.

Seeing Harry's silence, Ron immediately understood his meaning.

"That's Malfoy's house-elf," he emphasized. "Maybe this whole thing is Malfoy's scheme. Don't forget the bludger nearly hit your head—how is that saving you?"

"Dobby said it was an accident—he only meant to break my arm," Harry whispered, sounding unconvincing. "When he explained it to me, he kept banging his head against the wall—he didn't look like he was lying."

"That's just Malfoy's usual trick," Ron sneered.

Harry grew even more uncertain.

He wanted to believe Dobby, but the moment he remembered Dobby belonged to the Malfoys, that trust began to crumble rapidly.

"By the way, how did you know it… that Dobby was Malfoy's house-elf?"

"I saw him," Harry said. "When Malfoy's father came to the hospital wing to pick him up, Dobby was right beside him. They thought I was asleep, but I was awake the whole time."

"Later, Dobby came to see me at night—I recognized him at once by that dirty tea towel he was wearing," Harry suddenly frowned. "But Ron, what exactly is a house-elf? Is it like a goblin?"

"Of course not," Ron said. "A house-elf is the best helper a wizarding family can have—they can do all sorts of things. My mum has always wanted a house-elf to help her."

"Goblins are useless—they just steal potatoes and cabbages from the fields."

Like a servant?

Harry nodded, half-understanding.

At that moment, Silven and Hermione returned from the library.

Seeing Silven, Harry suddenly remembered other things Dobby had said…

"Something terrible is about to happen at Hogwarts—perhaps it has already happened. History is about to repeat itself. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened again…"

What did "history repeating itself" and "the Chamber of Secrets" mean?

And was the "terrible thing that has already happened" connected to Silven's attack? The only major event at Hogwarts recently had been that.

But Silven was perfectly fine—no harm at all. He went to class and the library as usual, nothing like someone who'd experienced something terrible.

Besides, none of the other professors had mentioned it—only Lockhart kept bragging.

Harry had too many questions, but every time Dobby started to explain, he'd smash a jug against his head—Harry never got a chance to ask further.

……

(End of Chapter)