Wandmakers Are All Out of Their Minds

Chapter 18

Silvan had always had a question: did a wandering spirit without a body count as a wizard, or as a special kind of magical creature?

Or, more specifically... could it be made into a wand core?

Perhaps I can try it first, Silvan thought. He just did not know whether any ghosts would be willing to cooperate.

With that question on his mind, Silvan hurriedly finished lunch in the Great Hall and headed down to the underground classroom with everyone else.

Snape's Potions class.

This time, Silvan was not late, and he finally got to witness the famous scene from his memories.

"I can teach you how to improve your reputation, brew glory, and even stop death—but only if you are not the usual bunch of blithering idiots I have to put up with."

Snape drifted around the classroom like a giant black bat. Wherever he passed, no one dared raise their heads to meet his gaze. They barely even dared breathe loudly.

"Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Just as expected, Snape had once again aimed his spear at Harry.

Naturally, Harry did not know the answer to any of it.

That was only natural. Silvan had read One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, and the questions Snape had asked were all around page one hundred and fifty—third-year material.

Did he expect a first-year student who had just enrolled to know third-year material?

What a joke!

Everyone present, even including the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who were not here, would not have been able to answer except Hermione, that study-crazed maniac.

"Ollivander!"

Silvan had been internally mocking Snape's sinister intentions when someone rammed hard into his arm. Turning his head, he saw Neville trembling like a quail, as well as Snape, whose eyes were narrowed and whose face had turned livid.

"It seems someone believes he has already learned enough and no longer needs to waste time listening to my lesson. Is that right, Mr. Ollivander?"

"Of course not, Professor." Silvan forced a smile.

Damn it. He had gotten too absorbed in watching the show and forgotten that Snape also hated people spacing out in his class.

"Is that so?" Snape's expression was icy. "Then could you please tell Potter the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Uh... monkshood is a fumigation herb. It can be roasted together with pine needles, insectwing grass, trifoliate flowers, and beetle shells. The smoke it gives off makes certain wand woods more flexible, and it is most commonly used on willow."

"Wolfsbane is the same. They are the same thing."

Silvan answered smoothly. Several students instinctively pulled out parchment and quills, preparing to write down these key points.

They clearly had not prepared well enough. They did not recognize any of it at all.

"Stop! You don't need to write that down!" Snape roared.

Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing.

Snape looked at Silvan again, the corner of his eye twitching.

To be honest, Silvan was not wrong.

Those details came from the third volume of Zygmunt Budge's Book of Potions—The Wondrous Pairing of Potions and Wands.

Strictly speaking, it was not a standard Potions book at all. It was merely a love letter Zygmunt Budge had casually written in his youth while pursuing a girl obsessed with wandlore.

It had absolutely no reference value in Potions, but Zygmunt Budge was simply too famous. Not only was he the most renowned Potions master of the Middle Ages, he had also founded the Extraordinary Society of Potioneers single-handedly.

Thus, even his casual work had later been compiled and included in the Book of Potions, the most authoritative work on Potions.

But as he had said, this thing was utterly useless...

No, Silvan was an Ollivander. He actually could use this information!

Merlin's beard!

Snape felt worse than if he had personally given Gryffindor fifty points.

He truly wished he had never read the Book of Potions, so he could deduct points without any reservations.

But a Potions master who had never read the Book of Potions? That was like a house-elf who could not sweep or Dumbledore not liking sweets—worthy of being named the coldest joke of the century.

"Sit down!" Snape pinched his nose and grudgingly accepted it. After giving Silvan one look, he turned and walked away.

Monkshood—one of the rarest ingredients, more expensive than dragon blood by weight. Wouldn't such a fine thing be better used to brew potions? And they actually burned it to smoke wood, smoke wood!

Pah!

All wandmakers were out of their minds!

Silvan blinked in confusion, unable to understand why Snape had suddenly become angry.

Monkshood and wolfsbane were the same thing. He had not said anything wrong. He had even explained their uses.

Silvan remembered clearly that he had read about it in the Book of Potions when he was nine. There was no way he could be wrong.

Unable to figure it out, Silvan could only blame it all on Harry.

He had definitely been dragged into it!

Still, there was some good news. For the rest of the Potions lesson, Snape did not bother with him again. Even when checking their work, he only gave Silvan's cauldron a quick glance before moving on.

"What was that? He should at least give me one point." Silvan muttered as he looked at the bright pink potion in his cauldron.

It was a standard boil-curing potion, without a single mistake.

Silvan was quite confident in his Potions skills. As a wandmaker, he often had to prepare corresponding soaking solutions according to the material of the wand wood.

That was no simple task. Even the universal version he used in his dormitory took nearly six hours to brew.

Compared to that, brewing a boil cure was ridiculously easy.

Yet Snape had not even properly looked at it.

That petty old bat.

Silvan grumbled as he left the underground classroom.

It was not as though he cared that much about those few House points. It was just that Snape's blatant targeting was too much. Even an adult would have wanted to swing hard and punch him twice.

Silvan was no exception.

"Snape's always like that, completely unreasonable," Ron said quietly as he walked up beside Silvan. "I heard from Fred that he never gives Gryffindor points."

"That's wrong!" Hermione hurried over. "Silvan was the only one who made a boil-curing potion. He can't pretend he didn't see it. We can go find McGonagall."

"Actually, he can." Ron shrugged.

"By the way, can I go see Hagrid with you?" he asked Harry.

At lunch, Harry had received a note inviting him to Hagrid's for tea at three.

It was almost three now.

"Of course." Harry looked at Silvan again. "Do you want to come too? I remember you said you were going to help him fix something."

"Oh, right." Silvan nodded. "But I have something else to do later, so I won't go with you."

"I see. All right, then." Harry did not think much of it. After leaving the underground classroom, he and Ron left the castle to find Hagrid.

(End of Chapter)