The Wand Runs Amok

For a wand, choosing the core was crucial, but Silvan had realized he might have chosen the wrong one.

The Troll Spine core was not only incredibly hard, but also unusually Sluggish when it came to reacting to magic. It had inherited all of the Troll's flaws, making the process of embedding it extremely difficult and painfully inefficient.

Silvan had originally planned to finish making the wand in two days at most, leaving him plenty of time afterward to complete the holiday assignments set by his professors.

But now... the entire Christmas holiday had gone into it. And so he wouldn't fall behind once classes resumed, lately he had been sleeping only two hours a day and eating just one meal. Whenever he grew too exhausted to go on, he went to the Hospital Wing to ask Madam Pomfrey for a bottle of Wit-Sharpening Potion to keep him going.

Even so, it wasn't until the early hours of the morning on the first day of term that the core finally fused completely with the wand.

In an instant, the separated pieces of the wand joined together as one. It began shaking violently on the table, rumbling so loudly it sounded like firecrackers going off.

Silvan instinctively took a step back, afraid it might suddenly explode.

But the next second, he realized something even more terrifying... It was one in the morning, when most people were fast asleep.

The rumbling woke everyone up. They came out of their dormitories, grumbling, their anger plain on their faces as they vowed to find the culprit who had disturbed their sleep and make him pay!

That wasn't hard. The sound came from an obvious direction, and everyone immediately zeroed in on Silvan's dormitory.

Someone stepped forward, knocked on the door, and shouted for Silvan to stop making so much noise.

But there was nothing Silvan could do. He opened the dormitory door and gestured for them to come in and try it themselves.

But no one went in. In fact, they all took a step back at the same time.

You've got to be kidding!

Inside, a two-foot-long, wrist-thick wooden club was spinning like a windmill. In the blink of an eye, the sturdy table had been reduced to splinters.

The bed and bookcase hadn't fared any better. They shattered at the slightest touch, as crisp as freshly baked cornflakes.

If that thing hit you, you'd be covered in bruises.

"Gulp..."

The sound of someone swallowing came clearly from the crowd. Everyone edged farther back, afraid the thing might come charging out of the room.

Silvan was edging backward along with them... He was scared too.

Fortunately, Professor McGonagall arrived just then.

She was wearing her pajamas, clearly having been woken up as well.

Seeing the crowd gathered together, she was nearly beside herself with anger. "What on earth are you doing? Are you trying to wake up everyone in the castle?"

Everyone immediately distanced themselves from Silvan, making their meaning perfectly clear.

Professor McGonagall had naturally noticed. Frowning, she asked, "Ollivander? What exactly are you up to?"

Silvan didn't answer. He simply led her to his dormitory.

Then Professor McGonagall fell silent too.

"You're saying that thing... is a wand?" She pointed at the bat frolicking around the room and rubbed her eyes hard.

"That's right."

"It's not a Beater's bat?"

"No. It's a wand. I just finished making it."

Professor McGonagall fell silent again.

She had been trying to convince herself that her eyes had deceived her, but to no avail. She knew she was wide awake—awake enough to see at a glance that the bat was more than two feet long.

So Professor McGonagall decided to disperse the crowd first.

"Everyone, back to your dormitories!" she shouted.

Everyone was unbearably curious, but when they saw Professor McGonagall's stern expression, they reluctantly returned to their dormitories.

A few of the braver ones pretended to shut their doors, then peered outside through the cracks.

Professor McGonagall didn't bother with them. She simply waved her wand forcefully.

Something seemed to spread around Silvan's dormitory. Then the Gryffindors in the other dormitories could no longer hear the rumbling, and the castle grew quiet once more.

"You..." She glanced at Silvan. "Can you make that thing stop?"

"I'll try."

With Professor McGonagall standing nearby, Silvan felt a little braver. He cautiously entered the dormitory, slowly reached out his hand, and quietly recited a complicated incantation.

Perhaps it had tired itself out from all its rampaging. After spinning around twice more, the wand fell with a thud—onto the floor, not into Silvan's hand.

It was too heavy. He hadn't managed to catch it.

Professor McGonagall's pupils contracted, and the corners of her mouth twitched involuntarily.

Was this thing really a wand?

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath and did her best to compose herself before saying, "Because of your recklessness, Gryffindor will lose twenty points. And remember to put everything back the way it was!"

With that, she hurried out of the dormitory corridor.

By now, Professor McGonagall was wide awake. All she wanted was to find out as soon as possible whether any of this was normal.

Silvan, as the one responsible, couldn't be taken at his word. Besides, he was probably too young to explain what had happened... But the president of the International Confederation of Wizards, who knew countless secrets, could.

As she passed the common room, Professor McGonagall looked up at the time... It was nearly two. She hoped the headmaster wasn't asleep yet.

Downstairs, the Fat Lady's portrait opened and closed.

As soon as Professor McGonagall left, Fred and George snuck over. Seeing the wreckage covering the dormitory floor, they both sucked in a sharp breath.

"It looks like a Gringotts vault after a Niffler's been through it," Fred said.

"Nifflers aren't that rough," George said. "What on earth did you do?"

"I don't know how to explain it either," Silvan said, taking out his wand and pointing it at a pile of wooden splinters.

"Reparo!"

Oh, it had been a bed...

"Don't just stand there watching. Give me a hand," Silvan said, turning around. There was a lot of stuff in the dormitory, and even with magic, it would take him ages to fix everything by himself.

"Uh... All right." Fred and George shrugged and joined in.

Working together, the three of them restored the dormitory in less than half an hour.

Once they had finished, the Weasley twins prepared to head back.

Then Fred stepped forward and patted Silvan on the shoulder. "I think you'll need some time to think this over."

"Think about how you're going to explain to the headmaster tomorrow that you wrecked the dormitory," George said.

The two of them chuckled as they left the dormitory, helping to shoo away the other people still gawking around the doorway.

Only then did Silvan finally have time to look at the wand still lying on the floor.

[Oak, Troll Spine, thirty and a half inches]

[Status: Perfect]

[Traits: Backfire: Spells will be returned to the caster (a foolish Troll always ends up hurting itself.)

Sluggish: Records the first spell cast by the wizard. From then on, no matter what incantation is spoken or what gestures are made, all magic will automatically be converted into the first recorded spell (a Troll's brain can only hold one spell, and so can its spine.)

Iron Armor: Defensive spells are 30% more effective]