Dumbledore

The wand, which had taken a full ten days to craft, truly gave Silvan the experience of riding a roller coaster.

Upon seeing the "Backfire" trait, Silvan felt his vision go dark and nearly fainted from frustration. A wand that was guaranteed to "blow up" was a death sentence for his reputation; if word got out, he would become the laughingstock of all wandmakers.

It wasn't even a simple "blow up," but rather a feedback loop to the user that bypassed all loopholes—holding the tip backward wouldn't even help.

As for the second trait, "Sluggish"... if not for the existence of "Backfire," Silvan would have been ecstatic. It meant he could cast Avada Kedavra with the same ease as a Lumos, effectively initiating true fire-power coverage.

Taken on its own, it was easily the most heaven-defying wand trait Silvan had ever seen. It could no longer be called a "Gold Legend"; it was the kind with special effects and rainbow colors.

But unfortunately, once paired with "Backfire," all offensive spells became unusable, and its utility plummeted instantly.

Otherwise, he would just end up hitting himself.

By this point, the wand was essentially a semi-failure, until the final trait, "Sturdy," appeared.

Defense spell effectiveness +30%. Just like its description, it was simple, brutal, and powerful, instantly bringing the entire wand back to its peak.

Although for a wizard pursuing raw power, this effect certainly couldn't compare to "Sluggish" on its own, from a different perspective, they were neck and neck.

It was the ultimate support capability.

Silvan narrowed his eyes, quickly thinking of a key spell.

The Protego, which shared the name of the third trait, and a 30% enhanced one at that.

Under the effect of "Sluggish," a wizard using this wand wouldn't need to consider spells, gestures, or any other factors. As long as they mindlessly poured magic into the wand, they could instantly refresh a new layer of Protego on themselves.

Then there was "Backfire," which currently seemed to ensure the stability of the Protego, preventing it from being cast on others due to panic, mistakes, or enemy interference.

Additionally, Silvan remembered that this spell was meant to be cast on oneself. As for whether it could trigger the "Backfire" trait to achieve a double-layered Protego, that remained to be seen.

Beyond these, there was a hidden trait the wand didn't explicitly label, which he would tentatively call "Sturdy."

The hard oak, combined with an entire troll's spine, brought the weight of the wand to an unbelievable level. Holding it felt like holding a solid steel plate of the same size.

And judging by the state of his dormitory earlier, one could easily imagine the consequences of being hit by it.

It would probably be—Stupefy (Physical Edition)?

Silvan patted his face, forcing himself to calm down.

He suddenly realized that he probably couldn't use this wand himself.

First of all, it was too heavy. Carrying such a thing, he would never be able to catch up to anyone, and after a while, he would likely exhaust himself.

Furthermore, his strength was limited, making it difficult to unleash the wand's true lethality.

But someone else could, and they would be a perfect match.

Hagrid, a half-giant!

The giant's immense strength would allow him to easily wield this heavy wand, and his half-blood status granted him the ability to use magic.

Silvan raised an eyebrow; he seemed to have found the perfect Christmas return gift for Hagrid.

Moreover, with Hagrid's eleven-foot stature, the wand was the perfect size for him. Even the half-giant himself possessed magic resistance far exceeding that of a normal wizard, adding yet another layer of armor.

Wait!

Silvan seemed to have thought of something and sat up abruptly, but he shook his head in disappointment a moment later.

What was he dreaming about? A half-giant's innate talent wasn't magic, so how could it possibly fall under the category of "Sturdy"?

But even so, it was terrifying enough.

Just imagine: on a chaotic battlefield, a half-giant who was almost immune to magic charging at you at seventy miles per hour, wielding an "Avada Kedavra Wand"...

The mere thought of that image was enough to give someone nightmares.

Silvan couldn't help but shiver, hesitating for a moment about whether he should give it to Hagrid. What if he got impulsive one day and decided to tear down the Ministry of Magic?

Would the Aurors be able to stop him then?

Silvan sat on his bed, lost in these wild thoughts, until his eyelids grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep without realizing it.

When Silvan woke up the next day, it was already nearly noon. He rubbed his forehead, groggily checking the time.

The next second, he was wide awake.

He was late... or rather, class would be over in twenty minutes!

Damn it, that was the worst part about a single dormitory; no one would ever call him to go to class.

Silvan scrambled to put on his clothes and shoes, threw open the door, and prepared to bolt.

"Good morning, Mr. Ollivander."

A gentle voice made Silvan stop in his tracks, wondering if he was still dreaming.

He must still be asleep; otherwise, why would he see Dumbledore standing behind his door?

"I can testify that you are currently awake," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "Could you join me for a cup of tea? After all, because of your affairs, I was woken up after only an hour of sleep last night."

"Ah? But Headmaster, I have class," Silvan said instinctively. "I'm already late."

"You don't need to worry about that at all," Dumbledore said. "I took the liberty of asking Professor Flitwick for leave on your behalf, and it seems it has come in handy."

"...Alright then."

"Thank you. Oh, and remember to bring that magical wand."

Since Dumbledore had said so, Silvan naturally wouldn't argue. He returned to his room, shouldered the wand, and followed him out of the Gryffindor common room to the Headmaster's office two corridors away.

This was Silvan's first time in the Headmaster's office. He tossed the wand onto the desk, panting heavily while curiously examining the room's decor.

After a quick look around, he was most interested in the silver instruments on the desk that were puffing out white smoke.

"I like to put some Dreamless Sleep Potion in them at night; it helps me fall asleep quickly. Of course, right now they only contain ordinary Pepperup Potion, sent to me by Madam Pomfrey from the school infirmary. She says it helps prevent the flu," Dumbledore said. "May I see that wand?"

"Of course, no problem." Silvan nodded.

"Thank you." Dumbledore walked to the desk, placed his hand on the wand, and pulled with effort...

For some reason, his movement paused for a moment. Then, with a slight flick of his fingers, the wand floated steadily into the air and hovered before Dumbledore.

Oh!

Watching Dumbledore's movement, Silvan slapped his forehead in annoyance.

Damn it, how could he have forgotten the Levitation Charm? It wasn't as if he didn't have another wand; why had he insisted on lugging this thing over?

On the other side, Dumbledore stared at the wand for a while and said softly, "It is indeed a wand. What a truly miraculous skill."

"It's nothing," Silvan shook his head. "There are many amazing wizards in the magical world. I heard there is a very famous Auror recently who can change into any appearance at will without needing Polyjuice Potion."

"Ah, I believe I know who you are talking about," Dumbledore said. "Nymphadora Tonks, the only Metamorphmagus in five centuries. A truly enviable talent."

"But you are not bad yourself," Dumbledore looked up, his bright blue eyes peering at Silvan through his half-moon spectacles.

"I heard the core of this wand is an entire troll's spine. Is that so?"