Vincent did not think too much about it. Instead, he studied the Basilisk Horn with his friends.
On the surface, it looked very much like the keratinous protrusion on a python.
But its cross-section was densely packed with purplish-red nerves.
That was precisely why Jormungandr felt pain.
"Are you sure something this size can fit inside a section of Snakewood?" Hermione drew her wand. "Look, it's at least two sizes thicker."
Vincent took out his own wand for comparison.
Lightness and slenderness were the reasons wizards around the world chose wands.
If one was thick and heavy, swinging it would take considerable effort.
The Serpent Staff was shaped like two snakes tightly coiled around the shaft. It looked somewhat exaggerated, but it was still light and slender.
A thousand-year-old Basilisk Horn probably could not be used to make a wand.
"Mate, why not make a wand even bigger and thicker than Salazar Slytherin's?"
"Yeah, then you could cast a physical Stunning Spell."
Fred and George's attempts at comfort had the opposite effect.
Carrying a wand like that into actual combat, even chugging potions might not make it more useful than an ordinary wand.
"Hm?" Vincent suddenly thought of a series of books his mother, Evelyn, treasured.
That white-haired, long-bearded old man always started with an illumination spell, then picked up his staff and knocked down crowds of people.
Could he become a melee mage?
The moment that thought appeared, it took root in his mind like a seed.
A big club—no, a grand staff—in his left hand, a gun in his right. Once they got close, they all died?
Vincent felt deeply drawn to this path that wizards had never imagined.
But to Hermione and Cedric, he looked like he had given up completely and truly intended to make an