Chapter 87: Shapeshifter Lizard Pouch, and Another Use of Dragon

The semi-transparent, dried shapeshifter lizard had always been kept in a box; when Silven took it out, it was exactly as he had seen it that night—unchanged.

In sunlight, faint runes could still be seen along its back.

If used as a wand core, it would certainly make an excellent Transfiguration wand—even if not as dazzling as Silvermane, it would at least match Professor McGonagall’s hair. Silven had no doubt about this.

But Silven had no intention of doing so; for him, the shapeshifter lizard had a more important use.

Silven sat by the window, pulled out the mandrake juice he had just bought at great cost from next door, and carefully dripped it into the shapeshifter lizard’s mouth.

Like ink dropped into water, the gray-brown mandrake juice spread rapidly, covering the lizard’s original pale hue in an instant.

At the same time, its shriveled body swelled, then floated lightly onto Silven’s palm—now completely transformed, its wrinkled gray-brown surface utterly dull, indistinguishable from a candy wrapper.

Hmm… the use is about the same.

Shapeshifter Lizard Pouch (roughly processed), a highly practical item in the magical world: from the outside, it appears as a small pouch, yet can store a great many items, offering exceptional containment.

Later, wizards, inspired by this property, invented the famous Undetectable Extension Charm.

This was only preliminary processing—capable only of storage. If he could find a reliable alchemist, they might help draw out the shapeshifter lizard’s innate magical sensitivity.

Then, only the owner could retrieve items from within—its security second only to Gringotts, effectively a portable vault.

But like Gringotts, the shapeshifter lizard pouch was not absolutely secure; if someone forcibly destroyed the pouch, they could still take what was inside.

But that depended entirely on the alchemist’s skill.

Silven did not currently know any good alchemists, nor did he need this function—he only needed it to hold things.

He already carried many wands, and might acquire more in the future; he couldn’t possibly keep them all in his pockets.

Not only would searching for them be troublesome, but they’d jingle and clatter as he walked—annoying. A shapeshifter lizard pouch would solve this problem perfectly.

Silven hung the newly made shapeshifter lizard pouch on his waist, lifted the troll wand from the table, and placed it atop the pouch.

Without any resistance, the two-foot wand vanished into the fist-sized pouch; Silven moved slightly, and it seemed even the weight had been reduced.

Good item.

Silven dumped all other wands from his pockets into the pouch, leaving only Silvermane for daily use; though the weight didn’t lighten much, he felt noticeably lighter.

Retrieving them was also convenient: since the hand reaching inside would shrink along with the pouch, Silven only needed to remember each wand’s position to draw them out in the shortest time.

After practicing all morning, Silven had mastered its use—he could sweep his hand across the pouch and swap wands instantly.

Too bad the pouch’s form wasn’t yet ideal; if it could be worn directly on the hand, it would be better.

Thinking this, Silven unconsciously glanced beside the table—at a circular bamboo ring.

It was the phoenix-tail bamboo wand shaft he had prepared earlier for the shapeshifter lizard; his grandfather Garrick believed this shaft best suited Transfiguration.

If the shapeshifter lizard core retained its inherent property, Silven could wear it on his wrist like a wand.

But after a night’s hesitation, Silven temporarily abandoned the idea.

Wand properties were unpredictable; without absolute certainty, Silven refused to risk it.

This was another reason he avoided alchemists.

Natural mandrake juice would not affect the shapeshifter lizard’s future use as a core—but alchemically treated juice might.

The next day, Silven bought a roll of magical tape and, under his grandfather’s puzzled gaze, carefully glued the shapeshifter lizard pouch to the inside of his wide school robe sleeve…

“Is this necessary?” the old wandmaker asked. “You’re starting school soon—surely you won’t face danger there?”

“You never know,” Silven said, shaking his sleeve. Good, it was firmly attached.

“But you never use other wands normally.”

“Not yet. But you never know when you might need them.”

“By the way, I’ve always wanted to ask—was that shapeshifter lizard really something you found?”

“Of course,” Silven said. “Something this valuable? No one would just give it to me.”

“I still find it hard to believe,” Garrick said, his eyes full of doubt.

He had lived in Diagon Alley for decades—how had he never found a shapeshifter lizard? He hadn’t even picked up a single Galleon.

“Relax—it really was found in Knockturn Alley,” Silven said casually. “Aren’t the Ministry hunting dark artifacts these days? Many pure-blood families have been selling things there—maybe one of them dropped it.”

“But what if someone comes looking for it?”

“No one will ever come looking,” Silven said without hesitation.

Unless those six people had also made Horcruxes, he added silently.

But Garrick clearly misunderstood—he thought Silven meant pure-blood wizards dared not admit they had visited Knockturn Alley.

“Fine, you’re starting school soon anyway,” Garrick sighed. “Here’s what you asked for—it arrived an hour ago.”

He placed a brown paper parcel on the table.

Silven eagerly opened it—inside were over a dozen dragon’s bloodwood rods of varying sizes.

“Why did you have me buy this?”

“To make wands, of course—not to light the fireplace,” Silven said, picking up one rod and examining it; from the grain of the cut end, it was at least fifty years old—the others were similar, none inferior.

“But dragon’s bloodwood isn’t suitable for wand shafts,” Garrick said. “It’s too volatile—it often develops intentions opposite to the wizard’s during combat. That’s a fatal flaw for a wand.”

“That could also be its advantage,” Silven said, opening a book: *The Magical Synergy of Potions and Wands*, turning to a page.

“It says here that under specific conditions, a wand shaft can guide the core’s magical flow.”

“No—it should be suppression,” Garrick blurted out.

“Not entirely,” Silven said. “Just as unicorn tail hair best suits healing spells, and dragon heartstring favors fire magic—these traits aren’t something a shaft can suppress.”

“But then a wand with dragon heartstring could only cast fire spells,” Garrick asked. “Isn’t a wand that can cast only one spell a failure?”

“It is… and it isn’t,” Silven smiled. “At least not for me.”

He raised his arm, glancing at the shapeshifter lizard pouch snug against his wrist.

…

(End of Chapter)