Wands for Giants

The next day, Saturday, was the day the Quidditch match began.

The fated battle between Gryffindor and Slytherin had students from both houses confronting each other from the moment they started eating, the air thick with tension.

The team members, in particular, were each followed by at least five upperclassmen to prevent them from being sabotaged by their opponents.

This sort of thing had happened many times before, and both sides were quite experienced.

"You don't have to eat so fast." Seamus Finnigan watched Silvan, who was stuffing bread into his mouth, and kindly reminded him, "It's only nine o'clock; there are still two hours until the match starts."

Silvan didn't speak, his mouth too full.

He took a large bottle of Pumpkin Juice handed to him by Neville and gulped down several mouthfuls, finally swallowing what was in his mouth.

"I'm not here to watch the match." Silvan checked the time, stood up, and ran out.

"Do you need me to save you a seat?" Seamus shouted after him, "It's the first match today, there's bound to be a huge crowd."

Silvan didn't stop or speak, simply waving his hand before his figure vanished outside the Great Hall doors.

"I wonder if he's going or not." Seamus frowned, failing to understand the meaning of that wave.

"Probably not." Hermione thought for a moment and said, "I don't think Silvan is interested in Quidditch; he has never discussed that topic with us."

"Impossible." Ron said firmly, "No wizard is uninterested in Quidditch; it's the most popular sport, right, Harry?"

Harry didn't speak.

At the thought of having to play later, his mind was a complete blank, and he hadn't heard a word of what Ron just said.

"Why aren't you eating breakfast?" Hermione noticed the sausage and bread on Harry's plate hadn't been touched.

"Not to your taste?"

"I don't want to eat anything." Harry said. He was so nervous that his stomach felt like it was turning over; he couldn't swallow a thing.

"That won't do." Hermione frowned, "I read in a book that a Quidditch match can last a long time, even a day or two; you must ensure you have enough energy."

"But I'm really not hungry."

"You have to eat anyway. The Seeker is always the primary target for the opposing team." Seamus Finnigan said, even taking the initiative to help spread a thick layer of ketchup on Harry's sausage.

"Thanks, Seamus."

Everyone in the Great Hall was cheering Harry on.

Outside the castle, Silvan had already arrived at Hagrid's hut and reached out to knock on the door.

Soon, the door opened.

Hagrid looked at Silvan outside, his expression complex.

"I really shouldn't have agreed to this yesterday."

"But you already did." Silvan said, "Hagrid, you're going to be a professor later; you can't go back on your word."

"How could I ever become a professor?" Hagrid patted his forehead in frustration.

Last night, Silvan had used that very line to flatter him until he was floating on air, and he had handed the thing over in a daze.

By the time he realized what happened, he understood he had been tricked.

He had a criminal record at the Ministry of Magic; how could someone who couldn't even openly use a wand become a professor?

But the words were out, and he couldn't take them back... after all, Silvan seemed to really love that thing.

"Come in." Hagrid opened the door just enough for Silvan to squeeze through.

"Don't let anyone see."

"Don't worry, I'm being careful." Silvan couldn't wait to get into the hut and blurted out, "Where is it?"

"There." Hagrid pointed, "I put it near the fireplace as you asked... Fang was going crazy last night, and I had to move it elsewhere."

Actually, he didn't need to point; the moment Silvan walked in, he saw it—the Complete Troll Spine he had been obsessing over all night.

From that moment on, Silvan's eyes never left it.

"But Silvan, why would you like something like this?" Hagrid walked over and said with a complicated look, "I thought only... only that kind of wizard would use it." He struggled for a moment but didn't say the term "Dark Wizard."

"You don't understand, Hagrid, you don't understand what this means to a wandmaker." Silvan's voice carried undisguised excitement, "In the sixth century BC, the invincible Andros attempted to craft a special wand for his Patronus, and the core of that wand was the spinal nerve of a mountain troll."

"The invincible Andros?" Hagrid scratched his head, feeling a sense of unfamiliarity with the name.

"The strongest wizard of ancient Greece in the sixth century BC, and the first wizard to break free from the wand, ushering in the era of wandless magic." Silvan explained, "He also created the Patronus Charm, capable of summoning a Patronus as large as a giant, which is unique in history."

"Oh..." Hagrid nodded, not particularly concerned about this wizard from two thousand years ago, though he soon noticed something strange.

"Wait, you just said a wand for a Patronus... can a Patronus use a wand?"

"Of course not, so he failed." Silvan shrugged, "But that wand did exist, and it was the only wand a giant could use."

Hagrid subconsciously glanced at a cabinet in the corner where the bottle containing his own wand was kept.

"So you want to make a wand for a giant too?" Hagrid seemed to guess something, "Using a troll's spinal nerve?"

"No, I want to use this entire spine." Silvan took a deep breath and gave an answer that Hagrid felt was completely impossible.

That bone was five feet long and as thick as a bowl; how could something like that be used as a wand core!

Silvan also felt it was difficult, but the opportunity was rare, and he wanted to try.

Furthermore, he had a premonition that if this wand were successfully crafted, his ability in wandmaking would likely take a massive leap forward.

Just like when his grandfather, Garrick Ollivander, first crafted a phoenix feather wand.

Right, that feather had been provided by Fawkes, and at that time, Garrick Ollivander was already twenty-nine years old.

"Alright, if you insist." Although he didn't understand it, Hagrid chose to respect Silvan's idea.

"Do you need my help?"

"No." Silvan shook his head, "Snape has already processed this thing; it's clean and perfect."

"Then do you need anything else?"

"I'm missing a handle to match it..." Silvan said, "Hagrid, where is the Troll Club?"

"That useless club?" Hagrid recalled, "I think I threw it into the Forbidden Forest yesterday. I'll go look for it now; I should still be able to find it."