Chapter 21: A Round Wand  

Half an hour later, Dumbledore left the staff table in the Great Hall.

Harold watched him go, and once again thought of that impossibly powerful repair charm. Unfortunately, he couldn't see any magical wand-related traces on Dumbledore.

Maybe he didn't carry it with him—or maybe the Elder Wand was just... different.

Snape left next, followed by Professor Flitwick, then Professor McGonagall...

At that moment, Harold suddenly stood up.

"Harold, what's up?" Harry and Ron jumped at the movement.

"Nothing, just remembered something," Harold said casually, then turned and jogged out of the Hall.

"Where's he going now?" Ron looked at Harry.

"How would I know?" Harry replied.

"So weird," Ron muttered, then shoved another chicken leg into his mouth.

He wasn't done eating yet.

Meanwhile…

Harold picked up the pace, catching up with Professor McGonagall just as she reached the stairs.

"Mr. Ollivander?" McGonagall looked a little surprised. "Is there something you need? Don't tell me you want to change dorms again."

"No," Harold shook his head. After a moment's thought, he said, "Sorry, Professor McGonagall—this might sound rude, but… could you give me a few strands of your hair?"

"My hair?" McGonagall instinctively frowned.

The request wasn't just rude—it bordered on outrageous. A short-tempered witch might've drawn her wand on the spot.

In the magical world, a single hair could be used for all sorts of things: Polyjuice Potion, hexes, dark magic...

"What do you want it for?" she asked. Maybe it was Harold's family name, or maybe his age, but she didn't shut him down outright.

"For a wand," Harold said.

"A wand?"

"Yes. More specifically—for the wand core."

"..."

McGonagall was silent for a long time.

This was… certainly the first time she'd heard such an absurd request.

But even now, she still didn't outright refuse.

"Come to my office, Mr. Ollivander—if you've finished your meal, that is."

"Of course," Harold replied.

McGonagall turned and climbed the staircase, Harold close behind.

The stairwell began rotating from the bottom, lifting them upward as they ascended. Soon they were on the second-floor corridor. But the stairs didn't stop—they kept turning, floor by floor. Harold barely had to walk, and before he knew it, they were at the eighth floor.

"Keep up. What are you thinking about?" McGonagall prompted, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"These stairs…" Harold muttered. "Why do they always start shifting the moment I get on? I've nearly reached class a few times, only to be hauled back up to the eighth floor."

"It was the same when I was a student," McGonagall said. "We're here."

She opened a door at the end of the corridor and stepped inside.

Her office was just like her personality: neat, clean, and practical. Nothing flashy.

A spacious desk stood at the center, neatly arranged with student homework, inkwells, and quills. Beside the fireplace, a bookshelf was packed with Transfiguration texts and journals.

"Well then, Mr. Ollivander," McGonagall said as she moved behind her desk and looked up at him.

"I don't want to question your knowledge of wandcraft, but I've never heard of a wizard's hair being used for wand cores."

"It's just an idea," Harold explained. "Inspired by the French Delacour family."

"Delacour?" McGonagall said. "You mean Apolline Delacour?"

"That's right. A wizarding family with Veela blood. Three years ago, my grandfather crafted a special wand for them. The core was Veela hair.

"According to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, when Veela aren't transformed, their bodies are almost indistinguishable from humans.

"So if Veela hair can be used as a wand core—why not a wizard's?"

McGonagall looked at the bright-eyed Harold. She seemed on the verge of saying something sharp, but paused and softened her tone slightly.

"But as far as I know, no one has ever successfully used a wizard's hair in a wand—including your grandfather."

It was meant to gently steer Harold away from this wildly unrealistic idea.

But Harold didn't care.

"That was before. Just because no one else could, doesn't mean I can't. I can show you a wand I made."

McGonagall was just about to speak when she saw what Harold pulled out—a... hoop?

She wasn't even sure what it was.

He said it was a wand—but how could a wand be round?

"Bamboo from Africa. Core is the brain of a Quintaped. Thirteen inches," Harold announced.

McGonagall's eye twitched.

That thing? A wand?

It didn't even have a tip!

Seeing her still skeptical, Harold casually flicked his wrist.

"Lumos!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, a glowing orb appeared from one of the bamboo nodes.

McGonagall's eyes widened—but that was just the beginning.

A second later, the left node lit up. Then the right.

McGonagall shot to her feet, knocking over her ink bottle in the process.

"Three spells at once..."

She hadn't lost composure like this in a long time. But a wand casting three Lumos charms simultaneously? It was absurd—utterly mind-bending.

"As you can see," Harold said, "each bamboo segment is independent. Normally, this wood wouldn't be suitable for a standard wand length, but I found that a Quintaped's brain can link them together in a different way—like this."

"Oh, and it can do this too," Harold added, giving it another flick.

"Reparo."

The knocked-over ink bottle floated back to the desk, and the spilled ink rose and poured neatly back into the bottle.

Looking at the wand again, only two of the glowing orbs remained.

"So… this wand can hold three different spells at once?" McGonagall was even more astonished, momentarily forgetting that Harold had just said "Quintaped brain" instead of the more expected "nerve tissue."

"In theory, yes," Harold said.

"Theory?"

"Because it requires incredibly precise magical control." Harold shrugged. "Honestly, right now I can only manage Lumos and Reparo at the same time. Anything more complex doesn't work."

That brought McGonagall back to herself. She quickly calmed down.

Of course. Casting three different spells simultaneously—how could that be easy?

And now that she thought about it, the three Lumos spells hadn't been identical. When the side segments lit up, the central light dimmed slightly.

Still, even so, it was impressive. Harold was only a first-year, and clearly full of potential.

Or imagine… what if Dumbledore used that wand?

(End of Chapter)