You Planning to Play Baseball?

Harry was getting a little restless.

If that wand wasn't in Silvan's hands, what was Ron supposed to do about his Christmas present? It seemed too late to prepare something else now.

"Could you make another one?" Harry asked cautiously.

"I could. I have all the materials on hand," Silvan said. "But are you sure? A wand isn't parchment. There's no guarantee that another one would suit Ron."

"Then what do we do...?"

"Don't worry. We can try. Christmas is the day after tomorrow, and my grandfather probably hasn't gone too far." Silvan glanced out the window.

"If everything goes smoothly, we should make it in time." He stood up. "Come on, let's check the Owlery first and see if there's a strong messenger owl."

"Use Hedwig," Harry said.

"Huh?"

"My owl, Hedwig," Harry said. "She's a snowy owl!"

"Oh, perfect." Silvan tapped his forehead.

Harry had an owl. How had he forgotten? And snowy owls were twenty Galleons, among the most expensive pets in the pet shop. Naturally, they were much faster and had more stamina than ordinary owls.

Silvan wrote a letter, then went with Harry to the Owlery, where they found the beautiful snowy owl.

No wonder she was worth twenty Galleons. She stood out in the Owlery like a searchlight; you couldn't miss her.

As soon as she saw Harry, Hedwig flew over and affectionately nibbled at his fingers, making Silvan green with envy.

He thought of his own owl, Tom, who spent every day wandering around, nowhere to be seen, with his head full of schemes for turning his colleague's pets into soup.

Damn it. He shouldn't have gone for the cheaper option.

Silvan and Harry arrived at the Great Hall ten minutes after dinner had started. They were a little late, but at least they wouldn't have to go hungry.

Ron found it strange. Harry had said he had something to do earlier, so why had he come back with Silvan?

Throughout the meal, he kept fishing for information, trying to find out what Harry had been up to, but never got an answer.

Harry wouldn't take the bait and pretended not to understand. When he ran out of options, he racked his brains and made up an excuse about doing homework, which just about got him off the hook.

Ron still didn't seem entirely convinced, but at least he stopped asking.

Afterward, Harry and Ron huddled together with Hermione and began whispering about something else.

Silvan sat beside them. Even though he wasn't trying to eavesdrop, he caught the gist of their conversation.

Basically, Hermione wanted Ron and Harry to go to the library during the holidays and look for someone named Nicolas Flamel.

Getting Harry and Ron to spend their holidays in the library... well, Hermione's idea was a nice one.

To celebrate the upcoming holidays, the Gryffindor students held another small party in the common room.

The food had been brought from the school kitchens by the Weasley twins: pies, whole roast chickens, juicy steaks, Pumpkin Juice, pea biscuits... It was far more lavish than dinner.

There was also Butterbeer from Hogsmeade.

But only a few people got any—or, more accurately, Fred and George had brought only one bottle for Silvan.

Of course, it wasn't because they were closer to Silvan. They wanted to know the secret behind his ability to use multiple wands.

It was common knowledge in the Wizarding World that a wizard could use only one wand.

Of course, plenty of people had tried buying a second wand, but they soon discovered that these so-called second wands were practically useless.

Wands that had worked perfectly well in the shop became sluggish in their hands, and their magic grew much weaker. They were useless in a fight, and even the simplest Cleaning Charm sometimes left bits and pieces of dirt behind.

Things only changed when they actively gave up their first wand. Otherwise, they had simply wasted a dozen or more Galleons.

Nobody knew why. Even if they asked at Ollivanders Wand Shop, all they got was the vague, cryptic answer, "The wand chooses the wizard."

What Silvan had said that afternoon had practically opened a whole new door to magic for Fred and George.

They were eager to learn. They didn't even need three wands; one in each hand was tempting enough.

Silvan wasn't stingy. Since he'd had their Butterbeer, he was happy to answer their questions.

So he told Fred and George that it was simple: all they had to do was learn how to make wands.

After that, the two of them really did stay up all night at the library, looking for books about wands... though it was anyone's guess how long they'd keep at it.

Early the next morning, the students going home for the holidays left the castle and headed to the station to catch the train. The once-crowded, lively Gryffindor Common Room suddenly felt deserted.

Silvan had gotten up early and was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace, fiddling with a "baseball bat" split in half down the middle.

When Harry and Ron came over, Silvan was scribbling on it with a crimson quill.

"Morning, Silvan." Harry greeted him, then sat with Ron in the armchairs nearby.

The best seats were usually in high demand, but today they could sit wherever they liked.

Ron found some leftover bread and flatbread from the night before, skewered them with a toasting fork, and held them over the fire.

Harry, meanwhile, was frowning and looking around for something.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, handing him a blackened piece of flatbread.

"Do you smell something?"

"Ah, it's a little burnt," Ron said sheepishly.

"No, not that." Harry shook his head. After a moment's hesitation, he said, "I think I smell blood."

"Now that you mention it, I think I smell it too." Ron looked up and began searching around as well.

"No need to look. It's this." Silvan held up the red quill for them to see.

"You're using blood as ink?" Ron stared at him, his voice full of disbelief.

"It's not ink. It's... well, you could think of it as a kind of medium," Silvan explained.

"I've been meaning to ask." Harry looked at Silvan. "Are you planning to play baseball?"

"What's baseball?" Ron asked.

"It's a Muggle sport," Harry explained. "They use a wooden bat to hit a ball far away."

"A Beater?" Ron immediately thought of his two brothers, who used bats to hit the balls away during Quidditch Matches.

"More or less," Harry said after a moment's thought. "But the bat is much longer, and they don't hit Bludgers."

"I don't know. I've never played," Harry said. "My cousin Dudley bought a baseball bat, but he never played baseball. Not once. I guess he just liked the bat."

"I've never played baseball either," Silvan said. "Actually, this is the next wand I'm going to make."