Chapter 19: The Unreasonable Old Wand
Siron had indeed promised to help Hagrid fix something—his wand.
Of course, this kind of thing absolutely could not be made known to anyone else, especially not Harry and Ron.
In some ways, these two were like Hagrid himself—tight-lipped and unlikely to spill any secrets.
But each had their flaw.
Hagrid occasionally let things slip, while Harry and Ron tended to whisper conspicuously, scheming out loud without caring who might be nearby.
The next day marked Hogwarts' first weekend break after the term had started.
Early on Saturday morning, Siron left the castle and made his way alone to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Hagrid's hut was easy to spot from a distance.
When Siron arrived, the door was tightly shut, and the windows were completely covered—not even a sliver of light leaked out.
"Wasn't today our meeting? Not home?" Siron asked, knocking lightly.
At the second knock, the door creaked open just a crack.
"Quiet, Siron… quiet…"
Hagrid leaned through the gap, eyes nervously darting toward the castle.
"Come in!"
He stepped aside, letting Siron squeeze through before quickly closing the door.
"No one saw you, right?"
"No," Siron replied. "I think you're overthinking this. Acting so tense only draws attention."
"Maybe you're right…" Hagrid rubbed his hands together. "But I really can't relax—I even had to leave Fang in the forest."
"Fang?"
"My dog."
"So… you think your dog would expose your secret about illegally possessing a wand?"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, keep your voice down." Hagrid instinctively pulled aside the curtain to glance outside.
"Alright," Siron said without pressing further, extending his hand. "Now, give me your wand. I need to see its condition."
Hagrid nodded and pulled a pink umbrella from the inside pocket of his coat.
Honestly, Hagrid's disguise was laughably half-hearted. It was a tiny umbrella, almost comically small for an eleven-foot-tall man. It barely even covered his head.
If Hagrid weren't constantly in the Forbidden Forest, someone surely would have noticed by now.
Oh well. He probably didn't really use it for rain protection anyway.
Siron took the umbrella and casually removed the canopy and handle.
Sixteen inches—probably the longest wand Siron had ever seen. With the roughly made willow casing, it measured almost twenty inches in total.
"Siron, what are you… oh, what are you doing!"
Hagrid's exclamation cut off as Siron rubbed the wand firmly.
The outer layer of wood fell away in flakes, like a fire lizard shedding its skin, revealing the pockmarked wand beneath.
Sixteen inches of wand were covered in web-like cracks, some even revealing the red phoenix tail feather inside.
Siron ignored Hagrid's growing panic and examined the wand carefully.
"Who repaired this?"
"I can't say," Hagrid shook his head. "Don't ask—I won't tell."
"Fine, doesn't matter," Siron replied. "But I'll bet whoever fixed this wand is a powerful wizard."
"Of course… Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard—"
Hagrid froze, a look of horror crossing his face.
"I shouldn't have said that. I betrayed Dumbledore. He fixed my wand, and I betrayed him."
"Relax, Hagrid," Siron said, rubbing his ear. "You don't think I'd tell anyone, do you? Don't forget, I'm here helping you fix your wand too."
"I… I didn't mean that."
"I know." Siron placed the wand flat in front of him. "My mistake. Actually, it seems it doesn't need a full repair after all."
"Ah?"
"Look at this." Siron carefully pried a piece of oak from the wand.
But a few hair-thin threads kept the fragment firmly attached to the rest of the wand.
"I've never seen a repair charm this strong," Siron marveled. "This damage couldn't be fixed by normal magic, yet it's kept intact in another form. Incredible."
"That's Dumbledore," Hagrid said matter-of-factly.
Siron said nothing, only deepening his resolve to study the old wand more closely.
If he remembered correctly, Hagrid's wand had been broken fifty years ago. That it lasted this long… it was utterly unreasonable.
"So, are you still going to fix it? It works as it is."
"Fix it, of course," Hagrid said immediately.
It worked, yes—but looking at all the cracks was nerve-wracking. He didn't even dare exert force, afraid it might break again.
"Alright." Siron nodded, pulled out a wand, and muttered an incantation.
The spell was long, taking about half a minute from start to finish.
Hagrid watched as his wand seemed to shed its outer layers like a molting lizard, the wand thinning slightly with each layer removed.
Then the final layer was gone, leaving only the bright red phoenix tail feather inside.
Hagrid let out a small whimper, quickly covering his mouth to avoid disturbing Siron.
No need—Siron was already focused, unaffected by the noise.
He picked up the outermost wand section.
The engraved runes were misaligned, which explained the cracks. Only Dumbledore's incredibly strong repair charm had prevented it from shattering completely.
Luckily, this made Siron's work easier—no puzzle assembly required.
He opened his leather bag and took out a silver carving knife, a few pieces of wood, and a jar of wand-specific glue resembling pine resin.
He had long prepared for this task; everything was ready in advance.
He carefully glued the fragments together, ensuring correct placement, then gradually enlarged the corresponding runes.
The process was simple in principle: cover the misaligned runes with new ones to restore the wand's integrity.
The work was meticulous, time-consuming, and required precision—but entirely manageable.
Normally, in situations like this, whether Siron or Ollivander would suggest buying a new wand—it would be half the effort and half the cost.
But this time, Siron said nothing. Hagrid couldn't buy a new wand, and Ollivander couldn't sell one to him.
Even Siron could supply one, but he didn't have a wand of this enormous size in stock—and Hagrid wouldn't be able to use any standard wand anyway.
No rush. It was the weekend, and Siron had plenty of time.
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(End of Chapter)