Chapter 19: The Unreasonable Elder Wand

Silven did promise to help Hagrid repair something—his wand.

But this kind of thing absolutely couldn’t be known to others, especially not to Harry and Ron.

In a certain sense, these two were just like Hagrid—tight-lipped people who wouldn’t voluntarily reveal any secrets.

Yet each of them had a flaw.

Hagrid sometimes let slip a word, while Harry and Ron plotted loudly, completely ignoring whether anyone was around when discussing secrets.

The next day was the first weekend holiday after Hogwarts’ term began.

Early Saturday morning, Silven left the castle and came alone to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid’s cabin was clearly visible, visible at a glance.

When Silven approached, the cabin door was tightly shut, the windows completely covered, not a single crack left.

“We agreed to meet today—aren’t you home?” Silven frowned and knocked on the door.

On the second knock, the door creaked open a sliver from inside.

“Quiet, Silven, quiet…”

Hagrid pressed his face against the crack, his eyes nervously fixed on the direction of the castle.

“Come in quickly!”

He stepped aside, and as soon as Silven squeezed in, he slammed the door shut.

“No one saw you, right?”

“No,” Silven said. “I think you’re overreacting—this just draws attention.”

“Maybe you’re right…” Hagrid rubbed his hands. “But I just can’t relax. I’ve even sent Fang into the Forbidden Forest.”

“Fang?”

“My dog.”

“So you think a dog would reveal your secret of illegally possessing a wand?”

“Oh, please, lower your voice,” Hagrid instinctively pulled back the curtain and glanced outside.

“Fine,” Silven didn’t press. He extended his hand. “Now give me your wand—I need to assess its condition.”

Hagrid nodded and pulled out a pink umbrella from inside his coat.

Honestly, Hagrid’s disguise was laughably poor—this was even a small-sized umbrella. Silven thought it was too small even for himself, let alone an eleven-foot-tall Hagrid.

This thing could barely cover his head.

If Hagrid hadn’t stayed locked away in the school’s Forbidden Forest, he’d have been discovered long ago.

Whatever. Hagrid wasn’t actually going to use this umbrella to shield himself from rain anyway. Let it be.

Silven took the umbrella and casually removed its canopy and handle.

Sixteen inches—probably the longest wand Silven had ever seen. Add the crudely made willow casing, and its total length reached twenty inches.

“Silven, how is it… oh, what did you just do!”

Before Hagrid finished speaking, he saw Silven rub hard against his wand.

A layer of wood, like the shed skin of a lizard, crumbled into dust with a light shake, revealing the wand beneath—pierced through and through with cracks.

The sixteen-inch wand was riddled with spiderweb-like fissures; some even exposed the red phoenix tail feathers inside.

Silven ignored Hagrid’s heartbroken expression and held it up close for a careful inspection.

“Who repaired this for you?”

“I can’t say,” Hagrid shook his head. “Don’t ask. I won’t tell you.”

“Fine, whatever,” Silven didn’t care. “But I’d bet the one who fixed this wand is a powerful wizard.”

“Of course—he’s Dumbledore, the greatest wizard…”

Hagrid’s face instantly twisted with terror.

“I shouldn’t have said that—I betrayed Dumbledore. He fixed my wand, and I betrayed him.”

“Calm down, Hagrid,” Silven rubbed his ear. “You don’t think I’d snitch, do you? Don’t forget—I’m helping you repair this wand right now.”

“I—I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know,” Silven laid the wand flat before him. “I was wrong—it doesn’t need to be repaired again.”

“Huh?”

“Look at this,” Silven carefully pried up a sliver of oak wood, trying to lift it off.

But several threads finer than hairs bound the fragment tightly to the rest of the wand.

“I’ve never seen such a powerful repair charm,” Silven murmured. “This kind of damage shouldn’t be fixable by magic—but it’s been held together in another form. It’s incredible.”

“That’s Dumbledore,” Hagrid said as if it were obvious.

Silven said nothing, but his desire to see the Elder Wand grew even stronger.

If he remembered correctly, Hagrid’s wand had been snapped fifty years ago—yet it had held together this long. This thing was utterly unreasonable.

“So are you still going to fix it? It’s usable as it is.”

“Yes, I absolutely must fix it,” Hagrid nodded eagerly.

Sure, it worked—but seeing it this shattered was unbearable. He dared not even apply pressure, afraid it might snap again.

“Alright,” Silven nodded, pulled out his own wand, and began chanting a spell.

The incantation was long—nearly half a minute from start to finish.

Hagrid watched as his wand, like a lizard shedding its skin, first extruded an outer shell, instantly shrinking in girth.

Then came the second layer.

After that, only a single strand of crimson phoenix tail feather remained.

Hagrid involuntarily let out a whimper, then quickly clapped his hand over his mouth, afraid of disturbing Silven.

It wasn’t necessary—Silven, already in motion, wasn’t disturbed by such sounds.

He picked up the outermost ring of the wand shaft.

The runes carved on it were misaligned—no wonder it had cracked like that. Only Dumbledore’s repair charm had been strong enough to keep it from shattering completely.

But this also made his job easier—he wouldn’t need to piece it back together like a puzzle.

Silven opened his leather satchel and took out a silver engraving tool, several wood slivers, and a jar of pine-resin-like wand adhesive.

He’d decided long ago to help Hagrid—these were all prepared in advance.

First, he carefully glued the fragments together, confirmed their alignment, then slowly expanded each rune by a slight margin.

In essence, the task was simple: cover the original misaligned marks with new ones, restoring the runes’ integrity.

But the process was tedious and unforgiving—delicate work requiring time.

In any other situation, whether Silven or Ollivander would have advised replacing the wand—it’d cost half as much as repairing it.

But Silven said nothing this time, because Hagrid could never buy a new wand, and Ollivander would never sell him one.

Silven could make one himself, but his stock had no such oversized wands—and the others would be unusable for Hagrid.

Take it slow. It’s the weekend, and he had nothing else to do.

(End of Chapter)