The Elder Wand Is Involved? It Has to Be a Scam

"Wake up, Harry. It wasn't all true."

Fred and George's mouths fell open. They had already sensed something was off, and now they finally knew why—being clever, they had immediately spotted the fabricated nonsense beneath that wonderful story. They had never expected Harry to believe it completely.

The Elder Wand? What a joke. Only a little brat like Ron would believe something like that existed.

"Maybe some of it wasn't true... but everyone says that nothing would be surprising if it happened to Dumbledore."

Harry glanced at his still-recovering leg. Madam Pomfrey had said he should rest quietly for the whole afternoon. "And the principles can't be wrong. Hold fast to your beliefs, gather strength, never abandon or give up... then strike back hard."

"The principles are fine, but... Dumbledore's wand being the Elder Wand... Mum said it was a fairy tale when she told us about it..."

"Maybe some of it was made up. As long as the principles are right," Harry said, his gaze firm. "Anyway, I want to give it a try."

For the first time in his life, he was the leader of a small group. The only thing he could find to guide him was Dumbledore's biography, and this failure had made him understand quite a few things.

"The points were wiped out... When was the last time we lost all our points?"

"Three years ago? Or four?"

In the common room, the older Gryffindors were not worried at all—the House Cup had been out of reach for their house for ages. Losing it again did not matter.

What mattered was how Harry, who was so very Gryffindor, was doing now.

"Hope it didn't crush him—there's one thing Gryffindors must remember: when Slytherin is at a disadvantage, Snape will make an appearance..."

"Second, don't casually start a war with Slytherin unless it's Quidditch season..."

Someone beside them added cheerfully, "Because Professor McGonagall is a little unfair then..."

"Third, and most importantly, studying is what matters most..."

A sixth-year glanced at the cheerful fifth-years. "How can you lot be sitting around chatting so leisurely at this time of year? This is your OWLs year. Have you finished your homework? Previewed the new material? Reviewed what you learned before?"

"Ah, right, right..."

The few fifth-years mixed into the crowd looked as though they had seen Professor McGonagall herself. They leapt to their feet and rushed toward their dormitory.

Andrew naturally had no idea what was happening in the Gryffindor common room, but that did not stop him from feeling anxious during Transfiguration class.

Even an idiot could feel the heaviness in the air. From the moment Professor McGonagall entered the classroom, it was as though some terrible curse had been cast over the place, making even breathing feel difficult.

"Class begins."

Professor McGonagall tried hard to appear calm, but that only made things more frightening. Though there were no Gryffindors present, everyone still trembled in fear.

Fortunately, as the lesson progressed, Professor McGonagall's expression softened slightly—the beans handed out had turned into glass marbles under most students' spells. Even if a few of the marbles still clearly resembled beans, they barely counted as successful transformations.

"Three points to Ravenclaw."

"Three points to Hufflepuff."

As Professor McGonagall spoke with a trace of weariness, the force that seemed to have every student by the throat finally vanished.

"All right, hand in last week's homework, then write a record of this lesson's content."

One assignment after another was passed forward from the back—it was only then that everyone realized the homework, which should have been collected before class, had been delayed until now.

Sitting near the front, Andrew hesitated briefly before nervously stacking his own essay on top and handing it in.

"All right, class dismissed."

Professor McGonagall picked up the essays and left the classroom first. The relieved students remained quiet for two or three minutes before seeming to come back to their senses, then gradually filed out amid chatter.

"Andrew Taylor?"

While Andrew was buried in books in the library, an older Ravenclaw student found him.

"That's me. What is it?"

"Your roommate said you came to the library. Professor McGonagall wants you in her office."

Andrew froze for a moment before understanding.

"Huh? All right, thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm a sixth-year, Barry Martin."

He looked at Andrew, his eyes kind. "Get there quickly. Don't keep the professor waiting too long."

"All right, I'm going."

Andrew practically stuffed his things into his bag at random. He jogged over to return the books he had borrowed to their places—Madam Pince gave him a glare, then chose to let him off—then hurried to the door and broke into a run.

Honestly, he had not expected Professor McGonagall to mark that thing which barely qualified as an essay so quickly.

Here... I'm here.

He stopped, caught his breath a little, then knocked on the office door.

"Come in."

Professor McGonagall's voice came from inside. Only after Andrew entered did he realize he was not the only visitor.

Two red-haired students who looked almost identical were sitting at a table nearby, wearing deliberately serious expressions as they copied down something or other.

"Don't mind them, Taylor."

Professor McGonagall sounded much more relaxed than she had in class. "Let's take a look at your essay."

"Here, this theory is not rigorous. When the effect of Transfiguration changes into a living creature, it becomes an entirely different concept..."

"And here, overly detailed transformations make the transformed object more susceptible to being damaged by the force of Transfiguration..."

Professor McGonagall had clearly reviewed Andrew's essay carefully.

"Overall, it's not bad. You can try these three books as well. The specific sections to refer to are..."

As the quill wrote and sketched on its own, a new reading list was drawn up. "Of course, do not neglect practice. Although its results are not as immediate as spellwork, theoretical understanding can never replace the problems discovered through practice."

"I'll keep training in mind, Professor."

"Mm, that's all, then. Go borrow those books from the library first," Professor McGonagall said kindly as she gave Andrew her instructions.

But as Andrew left the office and shut the door, he heard Professor McGonagall's merciless voice from within.

"Weasley twins, if you hand in another self-reflection like this with an excuse such as 'our ideas were similar'... then you may report to Mr. Filch."

The oppressive feeling from class washed over him again, and Andrew instantly quickened his pace.