Chapter 16: Ron

It was strange, really.

That glowing red “rope” didn’t look long at all—just two or three inches—but it managed to connect the two ends of a ten-inch wand, and not in a straight line.

Harry saw clearly that the cross-section of the wooden rod was carved with various symbols, all now emitting a faint red glow.

After who knew how long—maybe minutes, maybe hours—the “rope” finally reached its end, and the two halves of the wand snapped shut instantly.

“That’s… it?” Harry’s throat moved, his voice dry.

“Not quite.” Silven didn’t turn around, his eyes fixed on the wand before him, as he waved his hand. “You’d better step back. I don’t know if it’ll explode this time.”

No sooner had he spoken than Harry and the others stumbled backward; Neville and Seamus nearly collided—mainly because they’d been standing too long and their legs had gone numb.

At this point, they’d already considered leaving, but hadn’t even reached the door when a sharp scraping sound filled their ears.

Creak, creak—like someone sawing wood.

In the group’s terrified gazes, the wand floated into the air and began shaking violently.

In a daze, Ron seemed to see the shadow of some strange creature.

About twenty inches tall, its gray-brown skin rough as a tree stump, its most striking feature was its head—a crimson hat, as if soaked in blood.

The monster roared, swinging a wooden stick with force.

Crack!

A heavy hand slapped his shoulder; Ron jolted awake.

“Run! It’s the Red Hat!” he shouted, grabbing for Harry.

“What are you talking about? What red hat?” Harry, bewildered, was yanked hard and nearly fell.

With no other choice, he and Seamus and Neville clamped down hard on the writhing Ron.

After their combined efforts, Ron gradually calmed down.

It was the familiar dormitory; faint laughter from the common room still drifted in.

“W-Where’s the Red Hat?” he rubbed his eyes, asking blankly.

“What red hat?” Harry released his arm. “There’s nothing here. What’s wrong with you?”

“But I clearly saw…” Ron rubbed his eyes again. “Did I imagine it?”

“You didn’t imagine it.” Silven spoke, drawing everyone’s attention.

He studied Ron with interest, then glanced at the wand on the table.

“Remarkable. It was supposed to explode—but somehow completed the fusion. And you saw the core’s original form.”

He picked up the wand.

[Holly wood, Red Hat nerve, ten inches]

[Status: Perfect]

[Traits: Poison spell success rate +5%; Explosion spell success rate +10%]

By Merlin’s beard.

Silven tightened his grip on the wand.

Two traits—even if the bonuses were tiny and barely worthy of names—they were still two traits!

And both were positive attributes!

Silven looked again at Ron, thought for a moment, then handed the wand over.

“Want to try it?”

“Huh?” Ron blinked. “Me?”

“Yes.” Silven nodded.

Ron didn’t overthink it. Excited, he stood up, wiped his hands, and took the wand.

He had dreamed of owning his own new wand.

Even if this one wasn’t his, at least it was new.

“Try it,” Silven said.

“Try what?”

“A spell. The one you know best.”

“Oh.” Ron licked his lips, cleared his throat.

“Daisies, sweet cream, and sunshine.”

“Turn this broken old table yellow.”

Hum…

A flash of light passed before them; the brown table instantly turned bright yellow.

“Oh, my goodness!” Ron covered his mouth, eyes wide with disbelief. “This spell actually works!”

Not just him—Harry’s eyes widened too.

He’d seen Ron cast this spell on the train, but nothing had happened then.

So why did it work now?

“Looks like you and this wand suit each other.” Silven raised an eyebrow. “Consider buying it? I can give you a great discount.”

“How much?” Ron’s eyes gleamed.

“Seven Galleons,” Silven said. “That’s the standard price for new students.”

The light in Ron’s eyes vanished instantly. Reluctantly, he placed the wand back on the table.

“I don’t have any money. Not even seven Sickles.” He kept his head down, face flushed.

“I’ll pay for it!” Harry, ever generous, reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of glittering gold coins.

He had money—a small mountain of it in his vault. Buying a wand for a friend was nothing.

“No, no!” Ron gripped Harry’s arm, his face redder.

“And… I already have a wand. I don’t need another one.”

If Ron hadn’t kept glancing at the table while saying this, Harry might have believed him.

But Ron refused outright, and Harry couldn’t force him to buy it.

“It’s fine—I’ll keep it for you,” Silven said, taking the wand back. The tension eased.

“I’ll put it in Ollivander’s Wand Shop. You can come buy it anytime.”

“Yes!” Ron licked his lips again and nodded firmly.

“You must keep it for me,” he reminded again.

Seeing Silven agree, Ron returned to his usual self, apologized to Silven along with the others, and left the dorm.

The celebration wasn’t over—they wanted to eat something and drink a bottle of butterbeer.

The dorm was left alone again.

Silven took out the wand once more, recalling the moment when wand and core had fused.

The violent shaking, the piercing noise—he knew them too well. They were unmistakable signs of an impending explosion.

But in the instant before explosion, all anomalies vanished.

And even more coincidentally, Ron had seen the Red Hat core.

This was a resonance—only possible when a wizard and wand were perfectly attuned during wand-making. Normally, it almost never occurred.

After all, wandmakers always worked in quiet places, with no other wizards nearby.

Silven’s case was unusual.

He hadn’t expected success at all—he’d only done it to comfort his classmates, to give himself an excuse.

He wanted them to see how dangerous his usual work was, how it could explode. Not sharing a dorm was for their own good.

Silven’s plan was perfect—except he never imagined it would actually work.

He’d failed for a month—and now, this time, he succeeded!

“Because of Ron?” Silven murmured, recalling the phrase he’d heard so often his ears were numb.

The wand chooses the wizard…

(End of Chapter)