The more Garrick thought about it, the more he felt his guess might be right.
After all, something like a basilisk's eye or fang wasn't exactly the kind of thing someone could just give away. It had to have been taken from the scene.
Oh, Merlin's beard...
Garrick felt a chill run down his spine. On reflex, he wanted to go upstairs and ask Harold directly.
But by that point, Harold had already gone upstairs and shut the door. Garrick hesitated for a moment, then decided against it.
It was fortunate Harold was unharmed—he could ask about the details later. For now, better not to risk startling him at a critical moment. What if knocking caused Harold to accidentally look into the basilisk's eye?
Truth be told, though Garrick hadn't tried to stop Harold from using the basilisk's eye, he was still extremely nervous about the whole thing.
Not that Harold had explained it clearly—because the moment he closed the door, he had already summoned the unicorn's spirit and enveloped both himself and the basilisk's eye within it.
That way, even if he accidentally met the basilisk's gaze, he'd only be petrified—and the unicorn could just nudge him to bring him back. Perfectly safe.
Setting the basilisk's eye aside, Harold took out the serpentwood he had preserved with great care.
It was a Christmas gift from the previous year, already engraved with magical runes—just waiting for a suitable core to be completed.
Now, that time had come.
Though, after trimming a section previously, the serpentwood was now just under eleven inches.
To be honest, that length wasn't ideal for wandmaking—such a short wand wouldn't feel right in most witches' or wizards' hands. But there was no other option.
The crosshatched scales of the serpentwood shimmered like real snake hide. And when Harold placed the wood beside the basilisk's eye, the surrounding magic seemed to shift.
He could feel it—their magic resonating, like two snakes communicating and eagerly trying to entwine.
"Easy now... I'm about to help you," Harold whispered, gently grasping the basilisk's eye.
Golden runes lit up around his wrist. Within minutes, the crystal-like eye melted into a stream of orange-gold light.
Guided by Harold's hand, the stream flowed into the wand's core, snaking through the engraved runes.
As the first rune filled with light, the wand suddenly began to tremble.
The entire process went far more smoothly than Harold had expected. In less than half an hour, every rune was fully saturated with orange light.
Then, the wand snapped shut, bursting into a dazzling orange glow.
The light was so bright it leaked through the curtains and doorframe—so much so that Garrick Ollivander saw it from downstairs.
He dropped everything and rushed upstairs, flinging open the door.
He saw a wand slowly drifting down from midair, landing in Harold's hand. The wand still shimmered with rippling magical energy.
"You... did it?" Garrick's voice went unusually high. He looked more excited than Harold.
But Harold's expression was strange. Instead of joy, his face showed confusion.
Garrick didn't notice. He stepped closer, lowering his head to examine the wand in detail.
The craftsmanship was perfect. The serpentine scales looked more real than ever, glinting like gemstones in the light.
Most remarkable of all—the wand was flexible. With the flick of Harold's wrist, it twisted and curled like a living snake. Then, just as suddenly, it returned to its rigid state.
"It really is a special one, isn't it?" Garrick murmured.
He thought of the circular wand from five years ago, and the two-foot-long wand from last year that looked more like a baton. It seemed only Harold could craft such unique designs.
But what about this one? Was it just the shape, or did it hide something deeper?
Garrick reached out and gently touched the wand with one finger.
A peculiar sensation swept through him—he could feel the wand's emotion: excitement, like something that had slept for centuries was now wide awake.
But then Garrick's brows furrowed.
"No... something's wrong. This wand isn't finished yet."
"It's not," Harold echoed softly.
He already knew. In fact, he'd known from the moment Garrick walked into the room.
[Serpentwood, Basilisk Eye, 10 1/3 inches]
[Status: Conflict – Incomplete]
That was all the information he'd gotten.
Which explained the confusion on his face.
He had gone over the crafting steps multiple times—nothing had gone wrong. So how could the wand be "incomplete"?
Unconvinced, Harold raised the wand and tried a spell.
A yellow flash burst forth. Bang! A scorch mark the size of a fingertip appeared on the floor near a table leg.
Harold's face darkened.
He'd cast a simple illumination spell—why did it blow a hole in the floor?
Even worse, the direction was off. He'd aimed forward, but the blast hit far to the left.
"Lumos!" Read complete versıon only at 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩✶𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚✶𝕟𝕖𝕥
Bang! This time, the scorch mark appeared on the right wall—almost hitting Garrick behind him.
In other words, this was a wand of chaos. Its magical trajectory was completely unpredictable—even to its user.
"Wh—" Garrick was dumbfounded.
He had felt something was off, but not this off.
An uncontrollable wand... that was fundamental failure.
Usually, such behavior meant the wand's core and wood were magically incompatible—like trying to combine a non-magical stick with a tuft of regular animal hair.
But that clearly wasn't the case here. Basilisk eyes and serpentwood were brimming with magic.
Even Garrick Ollivander, with all his experience, was left speechless.
It was like making tea—using the right leaves, the right water, the right temperature—only to lift the lid and find pumpkin juice inside.
Several minutes passed before he snapped out of it.
Without a word, he turned and headed back downstairs, stopping once more before the hidden door.
"I'll look into it," he muttered. "Maybe this has happened before."