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Chapter 94: Wand, Dragon Egg
Wade didn’t understand: “What kind of relationship does it have with a Wand?”
Neville stared at his own wand, his gaze tracing every familiar scratch along its length. “This isn’t my wand… it’s my father’s. My grandmother didn’t want me to bring it. She said a wand that isn’t truly yours won’t perform at its best… but I…” He hesitated, then spoke softly. “I just… I couldn’t leave it behind. Not taking a new one from Ollivander’s… it’s like having my parents with me.”
Using that wand, Neville always felt drained—powerless. But he didn’t mind. He’d long accepted that he was clumsy, timid, and lacking in natural talent. More than once, he’d doubted why he’d been sorted into Gryffindor instead of Hufflepuff.
In fact, during the Sorting Ceremony, Neville had argued with the Hat for ages. He’d told it he didn’t possess the courage Gryffindor demanded and begged to be placed in Hufflepuff. But the Hat had insisted he belonged in Gryffindor—and in the end, it had declared so.
Yet since joining the SSC, Neville had felt steady progress every day. Spells no longer felt like impossible hurdles. For the first time, he’d tasted the joy and pride of overcoming a Giant. So when he faced another setback in Spell Learning, he couldn’t just shrug it off with the old, familiar self-deprecation: “Yeah, you’re just this clumsy. You can’t do anything right.”
He knew he could do it. But his choice of partner was holding him back.
In the Book of Friends, Neville confided in his grandmother. Madam Longbottom responded with her usual firm tone: “Let go of these pointless attachments. You need a new wand—properly suited to you!”
“Wade… what should I do?” Neville asked, lost.
Wade knew that when someone hesitated like this, the answer was already forming in their heart. It was just hard to let go of a lifelong belief—like surrendering a piece of his own parents’ memory. That was why it felt so difficult.
After a pause, Wade said, “Why not let the Coin decide?”
“The Coin?” Neville blinked, stunned.
Wade pulled a Sickle from his pocket, balancing it between his fingers. “Heads—keep using your father’s wand. Even if it takes ten or a hundred times the effort to reach average performance, you won’t give up.”
The Sickle spun halfway around in his hand.
“Tails—keep your parents’ memory and love in your heart, but choose a wand that truly fits you. Gain greater power. Become the son they’d be proud of. And gain the strength to protect others.”
“Do you see it?” Neville swallowed hard, nodding. His hands clenched into fists, fingers twisting the fabric of his robes into tight wrinkles.
“Then… let’s begin.”
Wade flicked the Sickle into the air. It spun rapidly, soaring upward, a flash of silver against the dim light. Neville instinctively lifted his head, eyes locked on the glittering arc—rising, falling—his heartbeat hammering in his chest.
Wade’s hand snapped down, covering the coin. Slowly, he lifted it.
Gulp.
Neville’s throat tightened. Sweat beaded on his palms.
Just as the Sickle began to show… Wade closed his hand again.
“Ah!” Neville cried out. “I haven’t seen it yet!”
“—But you already know, don’t you?” Wade asked. “—What answer you truly want.”
Neville froze. It was as if a thunderclap had split the silence above him.
Wade stood. “I’ll leave you to think.” He walked away, leaving Neville alone on the sofa.
“How’s Neville?” Theo asked, stepping over, concern in his voice.
“He’ll figure it out,” Wade said, glancing down at the Sickle still in his palm. A faint smile touched his lips. Then he slipped it into his pocket.
Well… fate does look after this clumsy kid, after all.
But…
Still, it’s better to choose for yourself after deep thought—than to be pushed by fate.
…
Time passed. It was Easter Holiday again. This time, every professor handed out a pile of assignments. With only two weeks off, most students chose to stay. Neville applied for leave. He planned to visit Diagon Alley and pick out a wand truly suited to him.
Wade also applied for leave—but he only returned home for Resurrection Day, spending the day with his parents. The rest of the time, he stayed in Hogsmeade, learning spells with Remus Lupin.
The Memory Extraction Spell wasn’t nearly as advanced as Wade had feared. If the memory-holder focused and willingly cooperated, the spell could be simple. But forcibly dragging out concealed memories? That was advanced Dark Magic.
Mental Defense required long-term training. The basics? Clear your mind—stop thinking, stop remembering, stop feeling. Advanced techniques involved weaving false memories and emotions into your mind, enough to fool even the most skilled Legilimens.
During the break, Wade made the most progress in Transfiguration and Disguise Charms. He also learned several new Fire Spells. Remus took the time to teach him a few useful tricks—like a spell to detect typos in essays.
Wade returned to school the day before term resumed. As he handed out Easter Eggs to his friends, he noticed two Gryffindors looking tense and worried.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Well…” Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. Then Hermione sighed. “It’s Hagrid. He got his hands on a Dragon Egg… and he actually wants to hatch it!”
Wade recalled: “Isn’t that illegal?”
“Exactly!” Harry groaned. “What if someone finds out? Hagrid doesn’t care at all—he’s just obsessed with being a dragon mother!”
“Hmm… rather Gryffindor, I suppose,” Wade muttered, then saw their genuine distress. He added, “I know someone. He works as a Keeper at Mr. Scamander’s place. Maybe you could hand the egg over to him for safe hatching? Or arrange to secretly move it to a place where dragons are allowed to be raised. Of course—”
He paused, watching their hopeful eyes.
“—You’ll need to convince Hagrid to give up his plan. Because private ownership of dragons is forbidden. Unless he’s willing to go to Azkaban.”
That wasn’t going to be easy.
Hagrid had always loved dangerous creatures—especially dragons. It was his lifelong dream. Even though he knew Harry and Hermione were right to worry, he couldn’t let go of the idea of the baby dragon. The thought of it being abandoned, hunted, even drained of blood or slaughtered for its liver—made the half-giant weep.
Day after day, the deadline approached.
The dragon was about to hatch.
(End of Chapter)
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