Chapter 49: The Fluffed Phoenix

Dumbledore’s voice was as calm and gentle as before, but for an instant, Silven suddenly grew tense—he could clearly hear his own rapid heartbeat.

It felt as if something malicious had locked onto him.

But the feeling came without reason and vanished in an instant, making Silven wonder if it had been an illusion.

But was it really an illusion?

Silven looked up at Dumbledore, who looked no different—except that, noticing Silven’s gaze, he subtly extended a hand and, hidden beneath his robe, pointed toward the direction behind the door.

Silven followed the direction of his finger and met a pair of wary eyes.

Good. Now Silven knew what had been watching him.

It was Dumbledore’s phoenix—somehow, this large red bird had fluffed its feathers and regarded Silven with sharp suspicion.

“Headmaster, your phoenix seems to dislike me—but I’ve never met it before.”

He truly had never seen Fawkes; logically, a phoenix shouldn’t be so wary of a stranger.

Could it be that Garrick Ollivander forcibly plucked its feathers to make wands?

Possible!

“I should clarify—I’m not close with my grandfather…” Silven looked at Fawkes, “You two can settle your differences yourselves.”

Silven’s tone was sincere, but Fawkes’s demeanor remained unchanged.

“It has nothing to do with your grandfather,” Dumbledore said. “All the phoenix feather wands Garrick made were offered willingly by Fawkes.”

“Then what else could it be?” Silven scratched his head.

“To be honest, I’ve never seen Fawkes act like this before,” Dumbledore said, glancing thoughtfully at the wand before him. “It might be because of this.”

“The wand?”

“Yes, the wand,” Dumbledore said. “Garrick uses tail feathers to make wands, but you used an entire spine… Fawkes may be warning you not to lay hands on it.”

“A phoenix spine…” Silven clicked his tongue, saying nothing.

But the motion made Dumbledore’s eye twitch.

What was that lip-purse supposed to mean?

Did he actually have that thought?

To be fair, Dumbledore guessed right.

Silven had indeed, for a fleeting moment, entertained that impractical idea—but only as a thought.

Because it was impossible. A phoenix isn’t like a troll; it can Apparate infinitely. If it doesn’t want to be seen, you’ll never lay eyes on it.

Also, phoenixes undergo rebirth, rising anew from flames.

Thinking of this, Silven immediately grew serious. “I never had such a thought, Professor.”

Dumbledore blinked with quiet interest. Had he not noticed Silven’s first reaction, he might have believed him.

But then again—he didn’t mind.

Many people have thought of targeting phoenixes: potion-makers, healers, Dark wizards—even Nicolas Flamel the alchemist. Such thoughts are only human. But thinking and acting are two different things.

Of course, Fawkes didn’t like Nicolas Flamel either.

But Dumbledore noticed that after Silven spoke, Fawkes’s wariness instantly lessened—its feathers had all settled down.

Phoenixes lack Legilimency, but they sense a wizard’s emotional shifts. That meant Silven hadn’t lied—he spoke those words with sincerity.

“Is this truly a wand?” Dumbledore brought the conversation back on track.

“Of course. On the Ollivander name.”

“May I try it?” Dumbledore said, eager.

He was curious—could a wand of this design even cast magic properly?

“I think… better not,” Silven said. “This wand can only cast one spell, and because it’s so long, it backfires every time.”

“Backfires…” Dumbledore asked. “You mean if I cast a spell with it, the spell will rebound onto me?”

“...Yes!” Silven nodded.

The headmaster’s office fell into an eerie silence. Dumbledore and Fawkes both stared at Silven.

Though neither spoke, their complex glances could have filled a two-foot-long essay.

An Ollivander had crafted a wand that only harms its user?

Ah, brilliant. If one could just sell these wands to Dark wizards and Death Eaters, the wizarding world would finally know peace… Well, Dumbledore couldn’t keep lying to himself.

His mind raced—what could he say now to appear worldly-wise while preserving Silven’s dignity and his own dignity as Headmaster of Hogwarts?

But half a minute passed, and he had no idea. His once-prized academic background seemed useless at this moment.

Silven, however, didn’t notice Dumbledore’s rapidly shifting expression. Seeing him silent, he went on: “I plan to give it to Hagrid.”

“You don’t like Hagrid?” Dumbledore couldn’t help asking.

“No,” Silven shook his head. “We’re good friends. He even gave me a very valuable Christmas gift.”

“Then why…” Dumbledore fell silent, hesitated, and chose not to say, “Why betray him like that?”

He gave a stiff nod. “Perhaps only Hagrid can fully unlock this wand’s advantages.”

He meant its weight and hardness…

But it wasn’t Dumbledore’s fault—Silven hadn’t mentioned the most important [Iron Shield] property, making the wand appear dull and useless.

Silven now guessed what was going on. He thought for a moment and said: “Actually, this wand does have advantages.”

“I’ve made troll-core wands before. Based on my estimates, this one should be ideal for the Shield Charm.”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes flickered.

“No wonder. It’s a thoughtful gift,” he said. “So you’ve confirmed it’s the Shield Charm?”

“Not yet. I’m still looking for something more suitable,” Silven said. “And I’m not sure if Hagrid will even like this gift—he seems very attached to his old wand.”

“Wand? Isn’t that just an umbrella?”

“Ah, right—he treasures that umbrella,” Silven quickly corrected himself.

Almost forgot—Hagrid can’t use a wand in his current role… Only a Headmaster would be this careful.

“Oh, it’s lunchtime,” Dumbledore seemed eager to end the conversation. He waved his hand, returning the wand to Silven. “I only granted you leave for the morning. Don’t be late this afternoon.”

“Mm, okay.”

Silven left the headmaster’s office with the wand, then turned back in the corridor to glance at the stone gargoyle now seated again.

When he first saw Dumbledore, Silven had been tense.

He knew well the trouble he’d caused: nighttime noise, dismantling dorms, crafting dangerous wands… No doubt he’d broken school rules.

He’d assumed Dumbledore had come to settle accounts—but it seemed not.

Dumbledore hadn’t deducted house points, hadn’t mentioned detention—seemed merely curious about the wand.

Dumbledore was curious about wands?

Silven didn’t understand.

Whatever. No extra punishment was good. Why overthink it?

…

(End of Chapter)