Chapter 20: Wand Core Supplier

From morning to noon, and then into the afternoon.

By the time Silven looked up again, eight hours had already passed.

The thing had taken him a full eight hours to repair—more exhausting than carving a whole new set.

Fortunately, the result was still pretty good.

The wand, split into three pieces, had merged back into one, and all those spiderweb-like cracks had vanished without a trace.

During the process, the mending spell already present on the wand played a huge role, greatly boosting Silven's work efficiency.

"Is it fixed?" Hagrid asked nervously.

He had stood there the entire time Silven was working, without moving an inch.

"Almost." Silven took out a long-necked bottle filled with green liquid and placed the wand inside.

"The Rejuvenation Solution will encourage the wand body to grow a second time, healing the broken parts. Combined with the original mending spell, in about a week your wand should be as good as new."

"Really?" Hagrid's eyes lit up as he carefully took the bottle Silven handed him.

"Of course," Silven said. "If you need to use the wand, you can—it's fine. Just put it back in here afterwards."

"That's wonderful, I don't even know how to thank you…"

"That's easy—just bring me some materials related to magical creatures from the Forbidden Forest." Silven said with a smile, making no effort to hide his motive.

He had had this idea for years; he just hadn't had the chance to meet Hagrid.

"That's no problem at all." Hagrid agreed without the slightest hesitation. After fumbling around in a circle, he found a filthy cushion.

"What do you think of this?"

Hmm… a cushion woven from unicorn hair.

"Unicorn is out of the question." Silven shook his head and didn't take it.

His grandfather Ollivander had already verified it—the best unicorn wand core is a complete tail hair. Although Silven possessed the ability to roll other parts into wand cores, there was no need to do so.

They were all the same magical creature. If tail hair was a perfect hundred-point wand core material, then other parts, even rolled into cores, could only reach seventy points—or even fifty.

When you had the perfect option, why waste time making an inferior product?

Unless Hagrid could get his hands on a unicorn's heart… but even Ollivander couldn't manage that. After a unicorn dies, it merges into the earth within an extremely short time, so he didn't dare hope for it.

Afterwards, Silven told Hagrid his requirements.

Apart from unicorns—only tail hairs—anything else would do. Shells, scales, hair, teeth—the main idea was to take everything offered. If there were any dead magical creatures, that would be even better.

At this request, Hagrid hesitated for a long time.

"This is how wandmaking works," Silven said softly. "My grandfather spent ten years finding the three wand cores best suited to him: unicorn, phoenix, and Hungarian Horntail."

"At the same time, this is the process I have to repeat—I too must find the wand cores that belong to me."

"But hasn't Mr. Ollivander already found them?" Hagrid asked, puzzled. "Can't you just use those cores?"

"I could, but if I did, I'd never become the very best wandmaker."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not my grandfather." Silven said. "Put it this way—in the last century, when my great-grandmother was running the wand shop, wizards' wand cores were usually Thunderbird feathers, Chizpurfle stingers, and Kelpie manes."

"These things can also be used to make wands?" Hagrid asked.

"Of course." Silven said. "Kelpie manes make the best Transfiguration wands; Chizpurfle stingers give you twice the result with half the effort when casting Dark Magic. But my grandfather didn't like them—he always thought Kelpie manes smelled like seaweed."

Hagrid listened with great interest, never expecting the Ollivander family to have such an amusing bit of history.

He had always assumed that the thousands upon thousands of wands in the Diagon Alley shop, and the methods used to make them, had all been passed down from generation to generation.

"So you want to find your own wand cores too?" Hagrid was beginning to understand.

"You could say that." Silven nodded hesitantly.

His situation was different—he couldn't really be considered a wandmaker in the traditional sense.

After all, whether it was his grandfather, his great-grandmother, or even going up the family tree for another dozen generations, no one had ever managed to stuff a toad's tongue into a wand.

So the possibilities open to him for experimentation were greater, and he had to start preparing as early as possible.

The Hogwarts Forbidden Forest was a fine choice, and with Hagrid's help, he didn't have to worry about running into danger—two birds with one stone.

In the evening, Silven left Hagrid's cabin.

Hagrid had agreed to his request, and also agreed to help him find Bowtruckle nests.

After all, with the cores settled, the wand bodies naturally couldn't be neglected. For Hagrid, these were no trouble at all—he could take care of them on the side while patrolling the Forbidden Forest.

However, Hagrid warned Silven repeatedly that he mustn't sneak into the Forbidden Forest on his own, or else Hagrid wouldn't help him anymore.

Silven naturally agreed without the slightest hesitation.

He was only in his first year—he'd have to be tired of living to want to go into the Forbidden Forest alone. Having Hagrid help was the safest option.

By the time Silven returned to the castle, it was just in time for dinner.

Because it was the first weekend after term started, the Great Hall was extremely lively. Even Dumbledore was there, sitting at the High Table chatting and laughing with Snape beside him.

Further to the left were Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Sprout from Herbology.

"Hey, Silven…"

Harry began waving from a great distance away. "Where did you go? We've been looking for you all day."

"I was at Hagrid's," Silven said. "Remember? I had to help him fix something."

"Hagrid…" Harry's voice paused for a moment, and he instinctively glanced at Ron beside him.

It happened that Ron was looking at him too.

But once their eyes met, they both, as if by unspoken agreement, looked away elsewhere.

It had to be said that these two were completely incapable of keeping a secret. The way they looked right now, even Neville would be able to tell something was off.

But since Harry didn't say anything, Silven didn't ask either.

He wasn't concerned right now with the curiosity the Boy Who Lived had developed after entering the magical world—there were more important things to do.

Dinner was much more lavish than usual, with corn soup and thick pan-fried steak added to the spread, and it tasted pretty good too.

Beside him, Harry and Ron were discussing Slytherin's Malfoy. Silven caught a few lines — apparently they had run into him in the corridor that morning and gotten into a bit of a verbal clash.

Ron even asked Silven for his take, but Silven said nothing.

In fact, ever since he had been sorted into Gryffindor, Malfoy's warmth toward him had begun to plummet, and they had not even spoken again.

He just didn't know why Malfoy still hadn't asked for his deposit back — the deposit he'd used on the boat to buy the Colour-Change Spray.

It was nearly thirty Galleons.

Neither cancelling the order nor paying the balance, as if he'd simply forgotten the whole thing.

But Silven wasn't in a hurry, so he was even less in a hurry.

……

(End of chapter)