Chapter 22: Dumbledore Was Looking Forward to It

It was hard to say what Professor McGonagall was thinking right now—even she couldn’t clarify it herself.

Half an hour later, Silven left her office with five strands of Professor McGonagall’s hair—exactly five.

Soon after, McGonagall herself departed, crossing two corridors to reach the headmaster’s office on the eighth floor.

What had happened today was too unbelievable; she needed someone to help her sort through it, and Dumbledore was the best choice.

The headmaster’s office was blocked by an ugly gargoyle.

“Toad Sweets,” said Professor McGonagall.

The gargoyle stepped aside, revealing a spiral staircase rising behind it.

McGonagall stepped onto it and was swiftly carried to the top, stopping before a door of oak.

She raised her hand and knocked; Dumbledore’s voice came from within almost immediately.

“Come in, Minerva.”

McGonagall pushed the door open. Dumbledore stood before a bookshelf, wearing a pink pajama set printed with strawberry patterns and a matching pointed hat—also pink.

“What brings you here?” he asked.

Unsurprised by the headmaster’s cake-like attire, McGonagall got straight to the point and recounted her experience from half an hour earlier.

“If a wizard’s wand core is made from his own hair, they will become the most harmonious partners—responsive as an extension of the arm, invincible in battle…” Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles with interest.

“He really said that?”

“Yes,” McGonagall nodded. “But Dumbledore, is this even possible? Using a wizard’s hair as a wand core?”

“Didn’t you already witness another impossibility?” Dumbledore countered. “Simultaneously casting three different spells—something unheard of.”

“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it,” McGonagall sighed.

In truth, even after witnessing it, she still doubted—otherwise she wouldn’t have rushed here so urgently.

“Ollivander’s craftsmanship is truly exceptional, but why have I never seen a wand like this before?”

“No, Minerva, I believe this has nothing to do with Ollivander—or rather, nothing to do with Garrick Ollivander,” Dumbledore said, walking to a table cluttered with silver objects and falling into thought.

“I just remembered something interesting.”

“Something interesting?”

“It was a year ago, when I was searching for a suitable Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the school.”

“Forgive me, Headmaster,” McGonagall interrupted. “When you say ‘suitable,’ do you mean a fugitive wanted by the Ministry?”

“Minerva, your words cut deep,” Dumbledore said without changing expression. “Finding a wizard willing to teach these days is already difficult enough… I must say, I’m fortunate this year Quirinus took the position himself—otherwise I’d have been running for another two months.”

“I only hope you’d take things a little more seriously…” McGonagall said. “Alright, let’s continue.”

“Where was I?”

“A year ago.”

“Ah yes,” Dumbledore said. “A year ago, while visiting an old friend, I happened to meet Garrick Ollivander there.”

“My friend told me that Garrick was searching for suitable core materials for his grandson, and described him as a singularly gifted wandmaker—one who could craft cores from unusual materials.”

“Unusual materials?” McGonagall blinked.

“That’s the interesting part,” Dumbledore smiled. “I suspect you’ve overlooked a crucial detail—the core of that round wand was made from the brain of a Pentaped.”

McGonagall lifted her head, her eyes flickering, then shifting to confusion.

“It seems you’ve already thought of it,” Dumbledore said. “In our conventional understanding, when we hear ‘wand core,’ don’t we always picture slender, easily insertable materials like feathers?”

“Yes,” McGonagall nodded instinctively.

“That’s precisely what makes this so fascinating,” Dumbledore walked to the window. “I once studied wandlore for a time—not expertly, but enough to reach the level of an apprentice.”

“In my view, a single nerve from a brain wouldn’t be enough to produce extraordinary effects—it would likely behave like a normal wand. But a complete brain? That’s another matter entirely. It touches upon alchemical theories of magical medium integrity and complexity.”

“Wait—perhaps it isn’t even a complete brain. After all, a Pentaped should be able to control five magics simultaneously, yet you only saw three.”

“Oh, I see. His core must have been purchased from Knockturn Alley—where nothing sold is ever whole.”

“Hold on, Albus,” McGonagall interrupted as Dumbledore grew more animated, his eyes brightening. “But how… how did Silven manage this?”

“Minerva, I don’t know everything,” Dumbledore shook his head. “Wandlore is an ancient, profound, and mysterious art, as old as magic itself. Only Silven himself can answer your question.”

McGonagall said nothing.

She could never possibly ask a student such a question directly.

A few minutes passed, and McGonagall prepared to leave.

Though many questions remained unresolved, she hadn’t come away empty-handed.

Dumbledore knew about Silven—that was enough.

“Wait, Minerva,” Dumbledore suddenly called out. “Could I ask you a favor?”

“Of course,” McGonagall replied without hesitation, turning to ask, “What is it?”

“It’s just…” Dumbledore suddenly grew awkward. “If Silven truly makes you a wand with your hair as the core, could you let me know?”

“Hm?” McGonagall.

“I’m curious,” Dumbledore mused, stroking his beard. “Perhaps I could ask him to make one for me too.”

“Forgive me, Albus…” McGonagall stared at him. “I don’t think you need a wand that responds as an extension of the arm and is invincible in battle.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Minerva,” Dumbledore’s face flushed slightly. “I’m merely curious. And my current wand… how shall I put it? It’s become rather capricious lately.”

McGonagall studied Dumbledore for a moment, as if determining whether he was joking.

In her memory, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen Dumbledore holding a wand—she’d even wondered if he truly needed one at all.

After a brief hesitation, she nodded.

“Alright. If that day ever comes, I’ll tell you.”

She didn’t commit fully—she still doubted that hair could serve as a wand core.

(End of Chapter)