Chapter 47: The Frenzied Wand

For a wand, the choice of core is crucial, but Silven found he had apparently chosen the wrong core.

This core, made from a troll’s spine, was not only incredibly hard but also abnormally sluggish in responding to magic, inheriting all the troll’s flaws, making the inlay process excruciatingly difficult and shockingly inefficient.

According to Silven’s original plan, he could have finished the wand in at most two days, leaving him ample time to complete the professor’s holiday homework.

But now… the entire Christmas holiday had been consumed, and to avoid falling behind after term resumed, he had recently slept only two hours a day and eaten just one meal, and when exhaustion became unbearable, he went to the school infirmary to beg Madam Pomfrey for a Wakefulness Potion.

Even so, the core did not fully integrate into the wand shaft until the early hours of the first day of term.

In an instant, the previously separate parts of the wand fused into one, beginning to shake violently on the table, emitting a booming sound as loud as firecrackers.

Silven instinctively stepped back, fearing it might explode.

But the next second he realized something far more terrifying… it was one in the morning, when most people were sound asleep.

The booming noise woke everyone; they stormed out of their dorms, cursing loudly, each face twisted with unmasked fury, vowing to drag out the bastard who had shattered their dreams.

That wasn’t hard—the sound’s origin was unmistakable; everyone immediately locked onto Silven’s dorm.

Someone stepped forward and knocked, shouting for Silven to stop making noise.

But Silven had no solution—he opened the dorm door and gestured for them to try it themselves.

But no one entered; instead, everyone unconsciously took a step back.

Are you kidding?

Inside, a two-foot-long, wrist-thick wooden rod spun like a windmill, and the sturdy desk had been reduced to splinters in an instant.

The bed and bookshelf met the same fate—touch them and they shattered, brittle as freshly baked cornflakes.

If that hit you, you’d be black and blue all over.

“Gulp…”

A clear sound of swallowing echoed through the crowd; they all stepped back further, terrified the thing might burst out of the room.

Silven, too, was mixed in the crowd, inching backward… he was scared too.

Fortunately, Professor McGonagall arrived.

She wore a nightgown, clearly awakened by the noise.

Seeing a crowd gathered, she nearly went mad, “What on earth are you all doing? Trying to wake the entire castle?”

Everyone instantly distanced themselves from Silven—the message was clear.

Professor McGonagall naturally saw it too; she frowned, “Ollivander? What in Merlin’s name are you up to?”

Silven said nothing, only led her to his dorm.

Then Professor McGonagall fell silent.

“You’re saying that… is a wand?” she pointed at the wild club inside, rubbing her eyes hard.

“Yes.”

“Not a bat?”

“No, it’s a wand. I just finished it.”

Professor McGonagall fell silent again.

She kept trying to convince herself she had seen wrong, but failed—she knew she was fully awake, awake enough to see at a glance that the rod was at least two feet long.

So Professor McGonagall decided to disperse the crowd first.

“Back to your dorms!” she barked.

Though everyone was dying to know more, seeing Professor McGonagall’s stern face, they reluctantly returned to their rooms.

Some bolder ones pretended to close their doors, then peered through the cracks.

Professor McGonagall ignored them, simply waved her wand sharply.

Something seemed to envelop Silven’s dorm; then, the booming sound vanished from the other dorms, and the castle fell silent once more.

“You…” she glanced at Silven, “can you make that thing stop?”

“I’ll try.”

With Professor McGonagall beside him, Silven gained a little courage—he stepped into the dorm, slowly extended his hand, and whispered a complex incantation.

Perhaps it had grown tired from its wild spinning, the wand spun twice more, then thudded onto Silven’s hand… the floor.

Too heavy—he couldn’t hold it.

Professor McGonagall’s pupils contracted sharply; her lips twitched involuntarily twice.

This… was really a wand?

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, then said, “Twenty points from Gryffindor for your recklessness. Clean this up.”

She hurried away down the corridor.

By now, Professor McGonagall had no sleep left in her—she only wanted to know if this was normal.

Silven, as the culprit, couldn’t be trusted to give a reliable account, and at his age, he probably couldn’t explain it anyway… but the Chairman of the International Wizarding Lianhe Society, who knew countless secrets, could.

Passing the common room, Professor McGonagall glanced at the clock… nearly two a.m.—hopefully the Headmaster hadn’t gone to bed yet.

Downstairs, the portrait of the Fat Lady opened and closed.

No sooner had Professor McGonagall left than Fred and George crept over, staring at the wreckage of the dorm; both sucked in a sharp breath.

“Looks like a gnome robbed Gringotts,” Fred said.

“Gnomes aren’t this destructive,” George said. “What did you even do?”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Silven said, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the pile of wood shards.

“Reparo!”

Oh—it was a bed…

“Stop staring—come help,” Silven turned to them. There was too much to fix; even with magic, he’d need hours alone.

“This… fine,” Fred and George shrugged, joining in.

Together, the three restored the dorm to its original state in under half an hour.

After finishing, the Weasley twins prepared to leave.

Then Fred stepped forward and patted Silven’s shoulder. “I think you need time to think.”

“About how to explain to the Headmaster why you demolished your dorm tomorrow,” George said.

They chuckled as they left the dorm, also shooing away others lingering at the door.

Only now did Silven finally look at the wand still lying on the floor.

[Oak, Troll Spine, 32 and a half inches]

[Status: Perfect]

[Trait: Backfire: Spells rebound onto the caster (Trolls are stupid—they always hurt themselves.)]

[Sluggish: Records the wizard’s first spell cast; thereafter, no matter what incantation or gesture is used, all magic automatically transforms into the originally recorded spell (Trolls’ brains can hold only one spell—the spine is the same.)]

[Ironhide: Defensive spell effectiveness increased by 30%]

(End of Chapter)