Chapter 115. The Devil's Snare's New Wand and a Trip to Diagon Alley
The summer holidays flew by.
July sunlight filtered through the Whomping Willow's branches, dappling the grass with shifting light and shadow.
Adrian Wesson was training Harry as usual.
Today's focus was Transfiguration. Wesson had lent Harry his old copy of Intermediate Transfiguration, the textbook for third- to fifth-years at Hogwarts.
For Harry as he was now, first- and second-year textbooks could no longer keep up with his pace.
In Intermediate Transfiguration, Harry needed to learn how to perform cross-species switches.
For example, at this very moment, Harry was staring blankly at a chicken in front of him—he needed to turn this chicken into a dove.
Although chickens and doves looked similar enough, it was still a big challenge for Harry.
"Hurry up, Harry," Wesson said from the side. "Mind your resolve and your wand work. As Professor McGonagall once said, swish elegantly—don't flap about like a baboon. Ah, and by the way, this chicken might be my dinner today, so be gentle."
Harry drew a deep breath and prepared to speak the incantation.
Just then, an owl's call came from above. Wesson looked up; an owl descended slowly in front of him.
Generally speaking, a witch or wizard's owl was fixed, so Wesson could often judge the sender from the owl's species.
But he had never seen this owl before.
Wesson frowned slightly and took a letter from the owl's beak.
"Who's it from?" Harry craned his neck curiously.
By this point, the chicken before him had turned into a strange half-chicken, half-dove creature, which was flapping its wings and flying towards the perch.
Wesson waved a hand to turn the poor chicken back, then opened the envelope in his hand.
The letter was very brief—only two sentences.
[
Mr Wesson:
Your custom wand has been completed; we look forward to your visit.
Garrick Ollivander
Ollivanders
]
In addition, there was a small line at the bottom of the letter: The wand displayed some unusual properties during its making.
So the Devil's Snare's wand had been completed.
Wesson nodded and looked towards the Devil's Snare.
The Devil's Snare was coiled beneath the Whomping Willow; one of its tendrils was playing Wizard Chess against another tendril.
Merlin knew how it managed that…
"Harry, I'm going to Diagon Alley," Wesson said. "Do you want to come along for a look around?"
"Of course!" Harry ran up to Wesson in excitement. "I want to buy a new Quidditch maintenance kit. Ron says you can get one at Quality Quidditch Supplies."
Seeing Harry's eyes sparkle, Wesson couldn't help but smile.
"All right, as you wish," Wesson held out his hand. "Hold tight to my hand—we'll take a quicker way."
Harry did as Wesson said.
"And," Wesson reminded him, "if you don't want your head to come off your feet, or your body to split in two, don't you dare let go of my hand."
Harry nodded. He naturally knew Wesson was going to Apparate—he still remembered that feeling as if he'd been stuffed into a narrow rubber tube.
"Urgh—"
When the two of them finally appeared in a side alley off Diagon Alley, Harry dropped to his knees and dry-heaved.
Even with preparation, Wesson's Apparition still made him feel a bit unwell.
Wesson always felt that the after-effects of his Apparition were far stronger than Dumbledore's.
"You need to get used to this feeling," Wesson said, patting Harry's back. "It'll help you a lot when you learn Apparition later."
Once they'd pulled themselves together, they left the alley, and the street opened up before them.
The bustling scene of Diagon Alley came into view at once.
Harry looked around, buoyant with excitement. Although it wasn't his first time here, everything still felt new and wondrous to him.
"I need to go to the south side of Diagon Alley," Wesson said to Harry. "Quality Quidditch Supplies is on the north side. Let's split up. We'll meet at Flourish and Blotts in the end—the place where you bought your textbooks."
"All right."
"And," Wesson added, "don't go into any alleys that are deserted or have no sunlight."
After parting from Harry, Wesson made his way to Ollivanders on the south side of Diagon Alley.
When Wesson pushed open the door and went in, he found old Mr Ollivander sitting at his workbench, carefully polishing a wand with a piece of chamois.
"Welcome—"
Ollivander looked up towards the door. When he saw it was Wesson, he immediately stood up from his chair.
"Good morning, Mr Ollivander. I received your letter."
"Good morning!" Ollivander looked full of energy. "You've come to pick up the wand, Mr Wesson. I've prepared it. And where is your—er—little plant fellow?"
Wesson waved his hand; the Devil's Snare's tendril shot out from his sleeve and writhed in the air with excitement.
It seemed it couldn't wait to get its own wand.
Seeing this, Ollivander quickly went to a nearby shelf, took three long boxes from a drawer, and stacked them on the table.
"I made three wands out of those tendrils."
As he spoke, he carefully opened the topmost box.
Inside lay a wand with a faint, ghostly green lustre; the shaft bore a spiralling pattern, as if living tendrils were twined to form it.
Ollivander took out the wand and said proudly, "Thirteen and three-quarters inches. The shaft material is those tendrils. And it has no core."
"No core?" Wesson raised an eyebrow and couldn't help asking, "Then how does it…?"
Ollivander's eyes sparkled with excitement. "It's marvellous—the tendrils themselves are perfect magical conductors, and can even temporarily store magic. There's simply no need for an additional core. What's more, I've borrowed a bit of Goblin craftsmanship to make this wand even more durable…"
The Devil's Snare waved its tendrils excitedly and coiled around that wand.
It gave the wand a gentle swish; a bright green light traced a graceful arc through the air, and several little flowers bloomed upon the wand.
"Perfect!"
Ollivander applauded.
"It looks like he's very satisfied," Wesson said with a smile, then looked at the remaining two boxes. "And these others?"
"They're the same materials and workmanship."
Ollivander opened the other two boxes. Inside were wands of roughly the same style; only the spiralling patterns upon them differed slightly.
"Come and try them," he said to the Devil's Snare. "Let's see which one suits you best."
Three of the Devil's Snare's tendrils, deft as fingers, coiled around the three wands and held them up side by side in front of it, swaying them back and forth a few times.
"What does that mean?" Ollivander, seeing the Devil's Snare's movements, looked at Wesson in puzzlement. "Which one does it like?"
"In fact," Wesson shrugged, "the Devil's Snare means it wants all of them."
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