Actively suppressing most of a wand core's abilities to highlight only one particular trait—that was an idea Harold came up with after the Knockturn Alley incident.
Back then, in order to understand the origin of the [Overload] trait, he had combed through numerous wand-related books. It was in The Magical Pairings of Potions and Wands that he came across a theory by Zygmunt Budge regarding wand wood.
In the book, Budge approached wand theory from a potion maker's perspective. He argued that wand cores, like potion ingredients, could also be "prepared."
Just like how one must peel shrivelfigs, juice the sopophorous bean, or roast lionfish spines before brewing—a process meant to dull or amplify certain properties—perhaps wand cores could also be modified in similar fashion to produce a "better" wand.
And if that's possible for potions, why not for wands?
Zygmunt Budge had posed the question—but no one paid it any mind, not even himself.
For centuries, wandmakers believed that the more complete a core was, the better the wand. The idea of dulling a core's properties was considered nonsensical.
Until Harold read that particular page.
Among the materials listed that could "mute" a wand core, one entry stood out—dragonblood wood.
And that was when Harold realized that Budge's theory happened to align perfectly with his own ideas.
Take that dragonblood wood wand, for example—it had discarded all abilities except one: Avada Kedavra.
Maybe that was because Voldemort favored the Killing Curse. So what if you replaced the core with dragon heartstring? Would it retain only the Blasting Curse?
Of course, if such a wand did exist, it probably wouldn't sell—after all, who wants a wand that can only cast one spell?
But what if there were ten of them? Or twenty? Or fifty, each specialized in something different?
That was Harold's idea.
He had even given them a name: Directional Wands—wands designed to cast a single spell only.
Then he approached his grandfather, Garrick, and placed a bulk order for dragonblood wood through the Fire Dragon Sanctuary using Garrick's name, saving himself a great deal of money.
Harold went upstairs, beaming, hugging the bundle of dragonblood wood close. Garrick Ollivander watched his grandson disappear up the stairs, his expression complex.
He thought he understood what Harold was trying to do, but he couldn't comprehend why Harold would deliberately make what he saw as "defective" wands. To Garrick, the entire concept was borderline heretical—a violation of everything a wandmaker stood for.
But every time he tried to tell Harold to stop, that unicorn-core wand would come to mind—the one that used the heart nerves of an entire unicorn—walking happily through his memories and dismissing every word of warning he might've uttered.
Was there anything more heretical than using a whole unicorn as a core?
Garrick shook his head and looked away from the stairs.
"He might not succeed," Garrick told himself. After all, wand core traits were theoretical—there was no definitive proof that dragon heartstring really excelled at fire magic. It was just a strong likelihood.
Even the Healers at St. Mungo's didn't all use unicorn hair wands.
Ding-ling… The chime of the shop door interrupted his thoughts.
Another customer entered, with Professor Flitwick following behind. Clearly a new student come to buy a wand.
"Just a theory," Garrick muttered as he turned away from the stairs.
In the days before the term started, Harold spent nearly all his time wrestling with the dragonblood wood. Fred and George would occasionally visit Diagon Alley to ask for advice on wand-making.
Not real wands—just prank items they were working on. Wands that looked identical to real ones but would turn into rubber toys the moment someone tried to cast a spell.
To make them more convincing, they asked Harold for help.
He sold them a bottle of pine resin for five Galleons. After a light soak, the fake wands' appearance improved dramatically.
Still a few flaws—but convincing enough to fool most witches and wizards.
As thanks, they invited Harold to visit the Burrow, but he declined. His mind was completely preoccupied with the dragonblood wood.
It was much harder than he'd imagined. A few rare explosions even occurred during his tests.
To be fair, dragonblood wood was far more explosive than cherry. Every few days, Diagon Alley residents were treated to a spectacular "firework show" from the second-floor window of Ollivanders.
When neighbors asked what was going on, Garrick would just wave it off: "Don't worry, Harold's protected by a Shield Charm. He's fine."
He didn't even finish his sentence this time before another deafening explosion shook the shop. Dust rained down from the ceiling, landing on both Garrick and Florean Fortescue.
Florean looked shocked. Garrick calmly cleaned the dust off with a wave of his wand.
Really, this was tame by comparison. The first time it happened, about two weeks ago, the ceiling had practically rained soot.
Now, most of the ceiling had already been blasted clean.
Harold stared at the hole blown into his desk, heart still racing, slowly releasing his grip on the troll wand.
Thank Merlin he hadn't already given it to Hagrid.
Even better, he'd had Garrick cast one spell with it beforehand: Protego.
[Dullness] — Records the first spell cast. Thereafter, regardless of incantation or wand movement, every spell will default to the one first recorded.
As long as Harold held that wand, he could cast Protego almost instantly, shielding himself from any further blast damage. The source of this content ɪs 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝓷𝓮𝓽
Poor Garrick had been dazed for days after using that wand—but it was fine. He was a seasoned wandmaker. He'd recover. He'd handled worse. Like that time he found out Harold had made a wand from redcap heart nerves.
Harold picked up Silvermane and flicked it effortlessly.
The shattered desk and windows pieced themselves back together.
Harold looked at the unrecoverable wood fragments and sighed. This had been his last dragonblood wand shaft.
Dangerous as it was, the rewards more than made up for it.
He opened his Mystic-Pattern Chameleon Pouch and pulled out five wands.
[Dragonblood Wood, Unicorn Hair, 11 inches]
Traits: -70% to general spell effectiveness; +35% to Aguamenti
Harold had tested it. The traits were separate—the bonus to Aguamenti was unaffected by the general magic penalty. It was the only spell unaffected.
[Dragonblood Wood, Redcap Heart Nerves, 12⅓ inches]
Traits: -70% to magic; +30% to Sectumsempra
[Dragonblood Wood, Acromantula Leg, 11½ inches]
Traits: -70% to magic; +40% to Incarcerous
Harold almost burst out laughing when he saw this one.
What did +40% mean? Even if your Incarcerous barely tied down a rabbit before, now it was good enough for Auror-level restraint.
That was a direct jump from Acceptable (A) to Outstanding (O).
Give this to a real Auror, and they might even match Dumbledore—assuming he didn't use the Elder Wand, of course.
Harold still didn't know what that legendary wand looked like or what its true power was.
Now for the last two.
If Incarcerous had made him "almost" laugh, these two wands erased the "almost."
[Dragonblood Wood, Unicorn Hair, 12½ inches]
Traits: -70% to magic; +25% to Expecto Patronum
[Dragonblood Wood, Dragon Heartstring, 13 inches]
Traits: -70% to magic; +25% to Confringo
25% wasn't even the highest—technically the lowest of the five.
But when you looked at the spells—Expecto Patronum and Confringo—those golden-lettered names changed everything.
Expecto Patronum was a universally recognized advanced spell, the only defense against Dementors, and a mandatory skill for Aurors.
Confringo was one of the most powerful offensive spells an average wizard could learn—and also Harold's favorite.
The moment he saw it, all those past explosions suddenly felt worth it.
Best of all, this wand wasn't one-time use.
That meant [Overload] had likely come from Voldemort's soul—or perhaps the dragonblood wood wasn't old enough. Either way, Harold hadn't seen it again.
And that was a good thing.
As long as he could master the Blasting Curse, this wand would serve as his personal heavy weapon—perfect to make up for his current lack of attack spells.