Chapter 8: A Completely Unsuitable Wand

Hermione sat there in confusion, not knowing why Silven was so particular about that form of address.

But seeing how solemnly Silven was taking it, she didn't say anything, just nodded and said, "Alright, no problem."

She was only a little stubborn and self-opinionated, not so lacking in emotional intelligence that she had none at all… not much, but she did have some.

Since the other party didn't like it, she simply wouldn't say it. Besides, it was just changing a form of address — nothing complicated, far too simple.

"So, you're a wandmaker too?" Hermione asked again.

Silven thought for a moment. "Right now I can only count as half of one."

As one of the three members of the group to come, Silven didn't mind chatting with her a while longer. Another reason was that the train was swaying too much — trying to read made it bounce up and down, very uncomfortable.

Even Tom, who normally didn't mind his surroundings, couldn't take it, and crawled out from between the two trunks, dazed and sprawled on the table.

Silven picked him up, smoothed his fur for him, and continued, "Strictly speaking, I'm currently an apprentice. I can only switch my title to wandmaker after I've officially sold ten wands."

"Then how many have you sold so far?" Hermione asked, though her eyes kept drifting to the cat in Silven's arms.

No wonder he'd used a cat as his example earlier.

And she hadn't expected Silven's pet to be an ordinary mongrel cat.

So ordinary that calling it a stray would be no problem at all.

Hermione rarely saw anyone keep a stray cat like this — most of the people she knew preferred prettier purebreds.

Shorthairs or Persians, for instance.

The Ollivander family made wands, so they must be quite wealthy, surely.

So this was a personal preference?

Of course, she couldn't possibly ask that out loud — it would be far too rude.

"Officially sold? One," Silven said, not knowing what she was thinking. He scratched Tom under the chin and tossed the answer off casually.

"Oh, that really isn't much," Hermione blurted.

"Hm?" Silven stared at the girl before him, for a moment wondering whether she was clever or foolish. "Have you considered that I'm only eleven years old?"

Eleven years old, not even attending magic school yet, and already able to successfully craft a complete wand and sell it — did she have any idea how much weight those words carried?

…Well, it seemed she really didn't.

Looking at Hermione's blank expression, Silven rubbed his forehead.

He'd almost forgotten — Hermione's parents were Muggles, and she'd had no contact with the magical world before this, so it was only natural she didn't understand.

As for Neville beside them… he didn't count, skip right over him.

Honestly… Merlin's pants, he'd tried to show off for once and hadn't even managed it.

Silven no longer felt like chatting with them, but Hermione clearly wasn't going to let him off that easily.

It was rare to meet a wizard willing to talk to her, and she had plenty of questions she wanted to ask.

What, Neville?

Ask him anything and he'd know nothing — he didn't count.

Neville: …

To give them more to talk about, Hermione even took out her wand.

That beautiful grapevine wand.

Neville still hadn't figured out what was going on, but seeing Hermione suddenly bring up wands, he took his out too.

Silven glanced at it.

【Cherry wood, unicorn tail hair, eleven inches】

【Status: Damaged】

【Trait: Resistance: Spell effect -50%, Spell succeeded rate -50%, high probability of backfiring.】

Silven raised his eyes and asked carefully, "This wand of yours… wasn't sold to you by Ollivander, was it?"

Though he thought it unlikely, Silven still felt he had to confirm — if Ollivander really had been blinded by greed and sold Neville something like this, he'd want to fix it in time.

"N-no, it wasn't."

Seeing Silven address him, Neville immediately tensed up.

"Th-this is… this is my… my dad's wand," he said, head lowered, stammering.

His voice was very small, and his face flushed bright red.

Both Silven and Hermione could tell he was resisting the topic inside.

So Silven didn't bring it up again.

As long as it wasn't something their family had sold, that was fine.

Still, out of a wandmaker's sense of duty, he gave the boy a word of warning.

"I'd suggest you get a wand that's truly yours. This one doesn't suit you at all — it'll be very difficult for you to use."

Going to school with a wand like that… think the school's lessons are too easy and decided to crank up the difficulty on himself?

"But this is my dad's wand," Neville raised his head and said, and this time he actually didn't stutter.

"A wand isn't clothes or shoes, and it isn't Galleons either. It doesn't matter whose it was — it belongs to only one person. At least, most wands are like that." Silven shook his head and patiently explained.

This wasn't something he was making up.

Fred and George were alike enough, weren't they — looks and personality highly similar, practically identical twins, in some sense even closer than a father and son.

But their wands were different.

Fred's was dogwood, thirteen and three-quarter inches.

George's was beech, thirteen and a half.

Apart from the standard unicorn tail hair core, everything else was different.

Neville lowered his head, wanting to argue with Silven, but not knowing how to put it.

His grandmother said he had to become a source of pride for the Longbottom family, just like his father, so he had to start by using his father's wand.

Besides, he himself wanted to use this wand—only when holding it did he get the faintest illusion that his parents were still beside him.

Neville's head sank lower, his face flushing red and pale where others couldn't see.

"Don't say that…" Hermione, overwhelmed with sympathy, couldn't bear it anymore and spoke up to defend Neville.

"It's just a wand. I've never heard of any weapon that can't be used by someone else. I think what matters most is learning spells."

"I've read *Analysis and Elucidation of Spells* and *The Most Popular Spells of the Twentieth Century*," Hermione said, tilting her head proudly to Neville. "The key points are all about incantations and wrist movements—there's not a single mention of the wand."

"That's because the authors never imagined anyone would use a wand that was clearly unsuited to them…" Silven thought to himself.

Choosing a wand suited to oneself is common knowledge in the Wizarding World—there's no need to state it explicitly.

Just like a Muggle book never tells you on the first page that a nearsighted person can't read it with reading glasses.

But… seeing their expressions, Silven held his tongue.

One was a newcomer from a Muggle family; the other was ruled by emotion, and saying anything would only make him seem heartless.

Once they experienced magic firsthand at school, they'd understand just how vital a proper wand is to a wizard.

(End of Chapter)