Chapter Eighteen

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"Bring me more pudding," Malfoy declared, waving his empty bowl at Kreacher.

Kreacher hurried to fill Malfoy's bowl, bringing an extra back for Ron as well. Ron glared at Malfoy, but accepted the bowl, seeming torn between wanting Malfoy gone and being appreciative that his arrogance had gained Ron food. He adjusted his blanket and sank deeper into the armchair in Harry's living room.

"So what's it like being the most powerful wizard in the world?" Ron asked Harry, his tone deceptively light.

Harry shrugged. "Warm," he said, unable to think of any other way to describe the current of magic he could constantly feel just within reach.

"Decided what you're going to do with it yet?" Malfoy asked. "Destroy some cities? Enslave some people?"

Ron opened his mouth in disgust before realising Malfoy was joking. He shut it again and went back to glaring.

"So, if you hadn't accepted the power, you would have lost both the power and the wand, since Twilfitt would have won," Malfoy said conversationally around a spoonful of pudding. "Damn confusing centaurs."

Harry nodded. "I hate divination," he muttered.

Hermione walked in, her nose in a book. "I've been thinking, Harry," she began.

Harry and Malfoy shared a look.

Hermione went on, oblivious. "I want to test something. Can you give the wand to Malfoy?"

"I like you, Granger," Malfoy said quickly. "I always thought you were too good for these two. Always said it, right from the start."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione said, although her lips quirked in a smile. "Harry, could you?"

Harry passed over the Elder Wand. Malfoy accepted it eagerly. "What now?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Wave it around."

Malfoy waved it around. Ron yelped as his armchair rose immediately, hovering above the ground.

"Interesting," Hermione said softly.

Malfoy returned the couch to the ground with a frown. "That was easy," he said. "It was like the wand wanted to do it."

"That's how it feels for me," Harry said slowly.

Hermione grinned triumphantly, although she looked faintly worried. "Do you feel any different, Malfoy?" she asked. "Since the warehouse?"

"Apart from feverish and sore?" Malfoy asked. "Not really."

"You shouldn't be feverish," Hermione protested. "You checked out healthy from St. Mungos."

Malfoy shrugged. "Well then, yes I feel a little strange. Why?"

"I think you're both the masters of the Elder Wand," Hermione announced.

Ron bolted upright, spilling pudding over the carpet. "You what?!" he yelped. "Please tell me I misheard you just then."

"I'm not sure how," Hermione continued. "But Malfoy seemed to tap the same power as Harry when he used the wand to save Harry from the fall." She shot Harry an annoyed look, just to remind him he wasn't forgiven yet. "It doesn't make sense. Everything I read says there should only be one master."

Harry remembered how both he and Draco had seemed able to use each others' wands as if they were their own. He told Hermione, but that only seemed to confuse her further.

"It doesn't make sense," she insisted. "The wand chooses the wizard. One wand, one wizard. That's how it's always been."

"Has it, though?" Malfoy asked suddenly.

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