The Shrunken Wand Core

Silvan had spent a long time thinking about it the previous night, torn between using the spine as the wand core or the wand shaft.

There had been bone wands throughout the history of the wizarding world. There had also been wands made from stone, metal, crystal, mithril, and even gold.

The magical system had been chaotic in those days, so wands were generally customized according to their users' own abilities.

It was not until the era of King Arthur that the legendary wizard Merlin organized and compiled his vast, ocean-like wealth of magical knowledge. He taught it to those around King Arthur and permitted them to pass it on to their own apprentices.

From then on, magic began to be passed down on a large scale. And because of King Arthur's influence, this inheritance gradually became the more authoritative and formal mainstream of magic.

This change was later reflected in wands as well... Since Merlin's wand had a wooden shaft, those strange and varied wands gradually vanished as mainstream magic spread.

The Ollivander Family had records of all this. If Silvan wanted, he could find detailed information on bone wand shafts.

Then, using the spinal nerves as the wand core would make the process much easier.

But Silvan ultimately gave up on that idea.

How should he put it? It was mainly an image problem.

The sight of him wielding a spine in battle would be far too horrifying. He would absolutely be mistaken for a dark wizard, and Silvan did not want Aurors watching him all the time.

Besides, while turning the spine into a wand core would be more troublesome for him, it was not impossible. At worst, he would just have to spend more time on it.

For example, he could use the time others spent watching a match to do something productive.

At eleven in the morning, the Quidditch match began. Yet Silvan remained completely unmoved, still tapping and working his wand around the spine.

Hagrid, however, found himself in a difficult position.

He now faced two choices. One was to stay and watch Silvan, whose strange behavior made him look exactly like a dark wizard performing some sort of ritual. The other was to go to the Quidditch pitch and cheer for Harry in his first match.

Hagrid wanted to choose both, but he could not split himself in two. He could only stand there, worrying helplessly.

It was not until five minutes later, when cheers rang out from the direction of the pitch, that Hagrid finally made his decision.

He chose to trust Silvan and left the hut to cheer for Harry.

Even though making a wand core out of a five-foot-long bone seemed utterly absurd to him, he was willing to believe that Silvan had not lied to him.

Besides, Silvan's place was far too boring. For nearly two hours, he had been repeating the same actions over and over, and Hagrid was almost sleepy from watching.

Watching the match was much more interesting.

Hagrid hurried to the Quidditch pitch and happened to see Harry diving rapidly toward the ground on his broomstick.

Then Harry covered his mouth with one hand as something golden fell into his palm.

"I caught the Snitch!" Harry shouted, raising his hand high over his head and waving it.

Oh no... Hagrid cried inwardly. He had only just arrived and had not even found a place to stand yet. How could the match already be over?

But the next second, he joined the other Gryffindor students in cheering for Harry.

It was rare for a Seeker to catch the Golden Snitch in their very first match. It seemed Harry truly was gifted.

Once the match ended, the spectators began filing out, and Hagrid returned to his hut as well.

"You missed an amazing match, Silvan," Hagrid said excitedly. "Gryffindor won, and Harry caught the Golden Snitch."

"Is that so? What a shame," Silvan said without turning around. There was not the slightest trace of regret in his tone; he was clearly just brushing Hagrid off.

Until broomsticks had wand cores added to them, he would probably find it difficult to take an interest in Quidditch.

"Wait..."

At that moment, Hagrid suddenly noticed something and walked over to the fireplace in confusion.

Was it an illusion? Why did he feel like the bone had shrunk by a whole size?

If it had previously been five feet long and as thick as the rim of a bowl, it was now probably only four feet long and as thick as a teacup.

"Did you replace it with a new one?" Hagrid could not help asking.

"Where would I get another one..." Silvan twitched the corner of his mouth.

If he could just replace it, why would he have come all the way here early on a weekend morning? Wouldn't he have been more comfortable in his dormitory?

"Then what happened to this one?"

"Necessary processing," Silvan explained. "I just wanted to challenge myself with a wand core made of this material. It is not like I actually planned to make a wand for a giant."

Making a wand for a giant... If word got out, the Aurors would not even wait until the next day. They would throw him into Azkaban overnight.

Some things were absolute lines that could not be crossed. The Wizarding Law stipulated that centaurs, giants, merpeople, goblins, house-elves, and similar creatures were absolutely forbidden from using wands. Even giving them a wand was a serious crime that could land someone in Azkaban.

For the time being, Silvan had no intention of provoking the Ministry of Magic.

Hagrid could not resist stepping closer for a look. Only then did he notice that there were no signs of wear or dismantling anywhere on the spine. It had simply shrunk by an entire size in perfect proportion.

"How did you do that?"

"Just a tiny little trick," Silvan said, rubbing his wrist.

"Oh, I get it." Hagrid wore an enlightened expression. "This must be something only the Ollivanders can do. How amazing."

"Something like that," Silvan said, without explaining further.

The Ollivanders' usual wand core methods could not handle such a huge troll spine. This was a special talent that only he possessed. An explanation wizards could more easily accept would be... a Wand Core Magus?

But from another perspective, Silvan was also an Ollivander, so Hagrid was not entirely wrong.

"What are you planning to do next?" Hagrid poured Silvan a cup of tea. "Keep making it smaller?"

"Later. I need a break first." Silvan accepted the cup and took a sip. Pine needle tea tasted strange, but it was bearable.

Because he was still too young, neither his magic nor his physical stamina could support him through such difficult work in one go.

But Silvan was not in a hurry. While he rested, he could make the wand shaft as well.

Silvan looked toward the table not far away.

An hour earlier, Hagrid had retrieved the troll's club and placed it on the table.

Silvan walked over, gripped the club with both hands, and prepared to move it somewhere else for some preliminary work.

But embarrassingly, he could not lift it on his first attempt. On the second, his face turned red from exertion, yet the club only wobbled slightly.

"Need any help?" Hagrid placed the water-filled copper kettle on the stove, then got up and walked over.

"No, no." Silvan hurriedly waved a hand, pretending to be relaxed. "I was just... checking its material. That troll had good taste. It actually chose a piece of oak."

"Really?"

"Of course. I am a wizard." Silvan took out his wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club floated up and dropped in front of Silvan with a dull thud.

Silvan raised an eyebrow. As expected, magic was still more useful.

Knock, knock...

Just then, a knock suddenly came from outside.

"Hagrid, are you home? We came to see you!"