The others, though envious of Bill, quickly became anxious and impatient.
Lord Sylas had said that their wands would be made by Bill in the future, so all they could do now was hope that he would learn quickly, and craft wands for them as soon as possible.
Afterward, under Arwen's gentle witness, Sylas and Bill signed a magical contract. From that moment on, Bill became the designated wandmaker of Hogwarts, responsible for producing wands for Sylas and the growing number of Wizards under his command.
It could be said that Bill had become Sylas's personal weapon craftsman.
In time, Sylas even began considering a new idea, establishing the first and only wand workshop in Middle-earth, a place that would one day rival Ollivander's in the magical world.
Bill stayed in the Castle, dedicating himself to studying wandmaking under Sylas's direct guidance.
As for the other newly transformed Wizards, Sylas granted them permission to remain within the Castle as well. Though they had no personal wands yet, they could still study magical theory and prepare themselves for future practice.
To that end, Sylas opened a large classroom and hung a portrait of himself above the blackboard. Through the portrait, he could lecture and observe the class even while occupied elsewhere. He also replicated dozens of Hogwarts first-year textbooks, filling the room with books on spells, charms, transfiguration, and magical theory.
The new Wizards eagerly devoured every bit of knowledge they could. Even without wands, they were filled with enthusiasm, practicing gestures and incantations over and over again.
To keep their spirits high, Sylas placed a single wand upon the podium, a communal wand that anyone could borrow to test their progress.
Every day, long lines formed in front of that podium.
Each person was given one chance to perform a spell, success or failure, no second attempts.
Some, upon successfully casting even a simple Lumos spell, erupted with excitement and joy. The first light glowing at their wand tip felt to them like a divine miracle.
Those who failed could only sigh, put down the wand reluctantly, and continue studying, waiting for their next chance.
Among them, several showed exceptional magical sensitivity, most notably Brog, the chieftain. Even without a wand, he managed to manifest traces of magic through sheer willpower alone: freezing water into thin ice, or exhaling a cold mist from his mouth.
Though the effects were minor, they were enough to draw awe and envy from others.
While instructing Bill in wandmaking, Sylas also crafted a personal wand for Brog, after all, both city mayors had wands, and fairness demanded the same for one of his most capable lieutenants.
The wand he made for Brog had a poplar wood shaft and a Thunderbird feather core.
What surprised Sylas most was how perfectly Brog attuned to it.
He had originally assumed that since all of them had fused with dragon blood, the most compatible core would be Dragon heartstring. But this discovery changed his view entirely.
If wizards infused with dragon blood could also resonate with other powerful magical creatures, such as Thunderbirds, that meant he would not have to worry about his limited supply of dragon heartstrings.
After all, the combined remains of the slain Dragons and Frost Dragons yielded only around fifty heartstrings in total, nowhere near enough for over five hundred Wizards. Even divided into pieces, they would still fall short.
Now, however, there was hope. Brog's compatibility with Thunderbird feathers offered a new path forward.
The wand was powerful, exceptionally fast in casting speed and ideal for combat. When Brog performed his first spell with it, lightning crackled faintly across the wand's surface.
Brog was thrilled, cherishing the wand as though it were a sacred relic, keeping it by his side at all times.
Meanwhile, Bill's training progressed rapidly.
With his prior woodcarving experience, he could soon craft wand shafts independently, carving delicate grooves and channels for magic circuits with steady precision.
He then moved on to the study of wand woods and cores, a critical stage in a wandmaker's education. A true master had to understand not just how to make a wand, but which materials suited each individual Wizard's nature.
To deepen his apprentice's understanding, Sylas took Bill into the Old Forest for hands-on experience.
The ancient, sentient trees of that forest had once been a threat to travelers, but to Sylas, they were now little more than a collection of magical resources.
When the Huorns stirred in anger and tried to attack, Sylas casually raised his hand, freezing the entire grove in a moment. Then, one by one, he broke off branches from the immobilized trees, explaining each type to Bill: their magical properties, their resonance, and what kind of Wizard they best suited.
Bill listened in awe.
Each of these living trees possessed power that could have easily crushed him, yet his teacher moved among them as though walking through a quiet garden, completely unchallenged.
Since beginning his apprenticeship, Bill had grown to revere Sylas deeply. Out of respect, he stopped calling him "Lord" and instead addressed him as Teacher.
Sylas did not object to the change. He simply nodded, accepting it with quiet satisfaction.
Thus, Bill became Sylas's first true student, and the foundation of his future wandmaking legacy.
As they continued their work, the Huorns eventually ceased their aggression. Realizing they were no match for Sylas, they grew still again, returning to their slumber.
They no longer resisted when Sylas broke off branches, for them, it was no more than the trimming of hair.
But in the eyes of a wandmaker, these magical trees were not terrifying, they were priceless materials for wandmaking.
Gazing at the surrounding enchanted woods, Bill's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Teacher," he said, voice full of awe, "this place is a treasure trove, a paradise for wandmakers! With the Old Forest here, we'll never run out of materials for making wands again!"
Sylas chuckled softly, nodding in agreement.
The Old Forest was indeed home to countless Huorns, and their branches carried powerful magical properties, perfectly suited for crafting wands. Better yet, the forest was located not far from Weathertop, making it a convenient and inexhaustible source of raw materials.
For Sylas and Bill, it was nothing less than a treasure trove.
"Next time you come here to gather wand wood," Sylas told him with a knowing smile, "you'll have to do it yourself. These trees don't have the best tempers, so you'd better practice some defensive spells when you get back, or else you'll be the one who suffers."
Bill glanced nervously at the towering Huorns, remembering how ferociously they had lashed out earlier. The branches still quivered faintly, as though glaring at him for their lost limbs.
A shiver ran down his spine.
He silently resolved that once he finished crafting his own wand, he would work tirelessly to master defensive and protection spells, before daring to collect wand wood again.
After they had "sheared" nearly all the largest and most potent Huorns, Sylas and Bill returned to Hogwarts Castle, bringing back enough magical wood to make over a thousand wands.
As the saying goes, "The master shows the path; the disciple must walk it himself."
Having imparted most of the fundamental wandmaking knowledge, Sylas released his student to work independently while he turned his attention to other pressing matters.
Bill, now filled with both excitement and pressure, began his first attempts at making wands on his own.
He processed the branches they had brought back from the Old Forest, shaping and smoothing them into wand blanks.
As for wand cores, he had an impressive variety of magical materials to choose from: Dragon heartstrings, Thunderbird feathers, giant eagle feathers, elf hair, Acromantula nerves, and Troll heartstrings.
These were all materials that Sylas had personally tested and confirmed to possess strong magical resonance and to be suitable for wand cores.
Of them, four stood out as the most stable and powerful:
Dragon heartstring, produced wands of immense power and sharp responsiveness, capable of casting explosive, high-intensity spells.
Giant eagle feather, created wands that were loyal and highly attuned to creativity, suitable for casting grand or intricate magic.
Elf hair, made the most stable wands, resistant to misfires or backlashes, producing reliable and consistent magic; though they strongly resisted Dark Arts.
Thunderbird feather, granted extreme magical adaptability and speed, producing wands that channeled spells as fast as lightning.
Sylas primarily focused on these four core materials, combining them with various woods from the Old Forest to craft diverse and specialized wands.
Bill, following his teacher's philosophy, experimented tirelessly, blending these materials and refining his carving technique.
But wandmaking was never easy.
As expected, his first few attempts failed miserably, wands that wouldn't channel magic, cores that snapped during insertion, woods that cracked under enchantment. Before long, a small mountain of discarded, useless wands had piled up beside his workbench.
Still, Bill never gave up. Every failure brought a lesson, every mistake deepened his understanding.
While Bill toiled day and night in his workshop, Sylas turned his attention to a new project.
He had recently cut down a section of mallorn tree, a wood as strong as iron and naturally imbued with spatial magic. He sawed the thick branch into planks, planed and polished them, and after a series of intricate enchantments and carvings, assembled two large wardrobes of solid magical wood.
These weren't ordinary wardrobes.
Sylas was building the Vanishing Cabinets, long-distance teleportation devices capable of linking two points together, allowing instant travel regardless of distance or anti-magic barriers.
...
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