I laid the rosewood branch gently on the table, examining it for a moment. "Alright, Hermione," I began, glancing up at her focused expression. "I’ll hollow out the center First. Once I’ve done that, you’ll need to place the unicorn hair carefully inside. After that's done I'll carve the runic symbols along the wood."

Hermione nodded, her face serious and intent. “Got it,” she replied, watching closely as I prepared the wand. She always took the details seriously, a trait that made her an ideal partner for something this delicate.

With steady hands, I cast Diffindo, guiding the spell with exacting precision to create a narrow groove down the wand’s length, just deep enough to secure the unicorn hair. Every move felt deliberate, every cut securing the wand’s potential. I could feel Hermione’s gaze on me, absorbed in the process, and it reminded me just how much she enjoyed learning the intricacies of magic.

"Now, Hermione," I instructed, pointing to a small bottle on the table. Cover the hair with that white paste—it’s in that bottle there—and then carefully let it slide into the groove."

Hermione picked up the bottle, curiosity flickering across her face as she examined it. “Is this… Elmer’s glue?” she asked, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Close,” I replied with a slight grin. “It’s a similar formula, but it’s fortified with ground unicorn bones for magical binding. The consistency helps lock magical elements of similar composition together in wands.”

Her eyes went wide. “What? You… killed a unicorn for this?”

I met her gaze, letting the pause settle for a moment before answering. “Hermione, I’m Death. I don’t go around killing unicorns,” I said, voice steady. “Unicorns rarely die naturally, so I can remember where each one falls. I used my powers to locate the remains.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down, abashed. “Oh… I’m sorry, Ben,” she murmured.

I gave a slight shrug. “It’s alright. Using this paste isn’t strictly necessary, but it strengthens the bond between the wand’s core and wood. A bit of extra effort makes a better wand,” I explained, watching as her interest returned.

Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully, hands still. “So, why didn’t you use this method on your own wand?”

"Mine didn’t need it," I replied. “The Thestral hair fused directly with the wood and bone of my wand, a bond that can’t be matched by anything else. A strong, natural blend of magic, unlike what we’re doing here.” I paused, considering. “Strange, really, that modern wandmakers still just lay a loose hair in a hollowed stick.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Hermione’s eyes sparkled as she absorbed this. “When you put it that way, it does sound a bit… primitive,” she remarked, carefully setting the unicorn hair into the groove before adding more of the magical paste to fill in any gaps.

“My turn,” I said, taking the nearly completed wand back into my hands. I began carving the runes down its length, each symbol interlocking elegantly with the next. The patterns were intricate, resembling delicate snowflakes and ancient symbols that held their own silent power. When I finished, I placed the wand on the table, a soft hum of magic radiating from it.

Hermione’s eyes widened with excitement. “What happens now?”

“Channel a bit of your magic through it,” I instructed. “But keep your thoughts on Neville—imagine this wand as his. It needs to align with his magic, not ours.”

Taking the wand carefully, Hermione closed her eyes and focused. A soft, bright blue glow wrapped around the wand, steady and calm. Unlike the chaos of a new wand choosing its wizard, this was serene, a deliberate infusion of purpose.

“That’s it! The wand is ready,” I said, pleased with the result.

Hermione grinned, satisfaction lighting her face. “So, now we go give it to Neville?”

“Yes,” I replied, sharing her enthusiasm. “Let’s say it’s an early birthday gift.”

She hesitated, thinking. “What if he doesn’t want to stop using his father’s wand?”

“We’ll need to convince him,” I explained. “An inherited wand never serves well, especially if the original owner is still alive.”

Her face grew somber as understanding dawned. “But… Neville told me his father was dead.”

I exhaled, choosing my words carefully. “Neville believes that, yes. But his parents didn’t die—they were driven mad by the Cruciatus Curse. They’re alive, though… in a sense, they’re not themselves. As long as his father lives, that wand will resist fully serving him.”

Hermione’s eyes filled with emotion. “That’s… that’s so awful,” she whispered.

I placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I know. But I intend to do everything I can to help them. It won’t be easy, and it’ll take all of us. But together, I believe we can set things right.”

With great care, Hermione wrapped the wand in packing paper, adding a small bow with some tape. She looked at it, satisfaction evident in her eyes, then followed me down the corridor to the Gryffindor common room.

At the door, I knocked, and Percy, Ron’s older brother, opened it, peering at us sternly. “Who’s there?”

“Ron and Neville’s friends,” I replied.

He eyed us, then sighed, stepping aside. “Make it quick. The common room closes to visitors soon.”

We moved quickly, making our way to Neville, who was seated by the fire, glancing up as we approached. Hermione handed him the wrapped wand with a warm smile. “Happy early birthday, Neville.”

He looked bewildered, carefully unwrapping it until the wand lay in his hands. "A… wand?” he asked, glancing between us.

“Yes, Neville,” I said, meeting his gaze. “This is a wand suited to your magic. Your true magic. You’ve struggled with your father’s wand, but it’s not you—it’s the wand that’s held you back. Accept this, and you’ll see what you’re truly capable of.”

Neville looked at the wand, then at us, his face full of uncertainty but slowly giving way to something like awe. Holding the wand reverently, he nodded.

As we left the common room, I felt a renewed sense of hope—for Neville, for Hermione, and for the battles we would face. Each of us was stronger together.