"It feels violent," Harold commented as he sat across from Rabastan eating lunch a half hour later.
He'd strongly suggested immediate food to restore Rabastan's strength, and that had sounded like a bloody brilliant idea. The elf hadn't spoken for nearly ten minutes as they ate, which had been fine with Rabastan because he was still rather drained. He knew what Harold referred to without having to ask.
"It has to be. You're making the thing to do violence."
"Not just power," Harold asked.
It was weird seeing the little fucker without his plague doctor mask, but, of course, he had to take it off to eat. He just looked like any other elf without the mask which oddly seemed to diminish him somehow in appearance. It took away the mystery and slight edge of creepiness.
"A strong wand is power," Rabastan told him. "Blasting the fuck out of something is nothing other than raw violence."
Harold paused for several seconds, taking another thoughtful bite from the sandwich in his hands. "So Harold must feel violent to refill a blasting rod?"
"You want one, then," Rabastan asked, half flattered and half annoyed. "Damn if every motherfucker in the world isn't going to want one," he complained. "Those are a bitch to make!"
Harold gave him a slightly apologetic look. "Harold may feel safer with one under the current conditions. He would likely feel even more capable of defending the manor. But he was also thinking of refilling those rods that when made shall belong to Mr. Rodolphus, Miss Bellatrix, and, of course, you."
Rabastan's face softened. That was nice. Refilling those rods drained a lot of energy, which he'd made no secret of to the elf, yet Harold was still willing to do that for them without even being asked...because, of course, they never would've asked that.
"Well fuck, that's nice of you," he said a bit gruffly. Then after a moment of thought, he asked "What? You don't like feeling violent? If I had to do boring shit all day like you do, I'd be feeling violence a plenty."
Harold snickered. "Harold finds it peaceful here."
"Before you were here?"
The elf shrugged.
Rabastan gave him a smug, knowing grin. "You could remember that shit and feel violence, then channel it into the blasting rod," Rabastan explained. "Or like if shit wasn't going right in the kitchen one day, and that annoyed you, you could bring that shit up and maybe enlarge it a little when refilling a rod. It'd probably work."
Harold chuckled with a bemused expression. "Things in your kitchen truly present no challenge."
Rabastan grinned. "Okay, but I bet Rod and Bella's bedroom is quite the fright! You've really gotta hate making their bed. I mean, who knows what the fuck you might find… and knowing them, I literally mean that!"
Harold's face became blank as he paused to slowly draw in a deep breath. Rabastan could tell the little shit was struggling not to laugh.
"Their bed only has sheets and blankets," Harold stated gravely. "It seems similar to your own, in truth."
Rabastan huffed an exasperated sigh. "Well, whatever pisses you off, just think about it when you fill your fucking rod that I will eventually make you. Speaking of..." He drained the last swig of tea from his mug. "Thanks for lunch. I'm feeling far better, and now I should get back to work."
"Is there anything Harold can do to help?"
Rabastan considered for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. You can write Mag and tell her I need more of everything, and also someone who can help me drill into the wood."
"Harold can help Mr. Rabastan drill into the wood, he believes. Should he just write her about the supplies?"
Rabastan nodded, giving the elf a pleased smile. "Yeah, that's great. Thanks. If you're going to be helping like that I'll make your rod first as soon as I have the wood here. I want you to see all the options before deciding what kind you want."
Harold nodded, looking oddly touched. To Rabastan's immense relief, the elf hurried away to write Mag before that emotional shit got uncomfortable.
Rabastan spent the rest of the day using up all the copper rods and quartz orbs that he'd received from the bank. More arrived just before Bella and Rod got home from Azkaban along with the wood.
There were several types of wood, each piece labeled clearly as oak, blackthorn, camphor, ash, or beech. The pieces ranged from as thick as Rabastan's wrist to twice the thickness of his thumb.
He was more dubious about the thinner ones, but still interested in giving them a go to see if, and how, they operated differently than the thicker pieces. Each was roughly wand or staff-like in shape, some more polished than others, and the lengths ranged from as long as Rabastan's forearm to as short as his hand. The little ones would be easier to hide. A person could blast shit while it was still hidden up a sleeve if they were really good. Then other fuckers would have no idea where the blasting was coming from!
Though Bella and Rod were eager to receive their own rods, they reluctantly agreed to wait until he'd made several types so they could decide which worked best for them. Lyra was a bit too excited about the blasting rod concept for Rabastan's comfort, but he'd give her one anyway. Like any good Uncle, he knew damned well if shit went awry, it was the parents' job to deal with the fucking consequences.
As soon as dinner was over, Rabastan was back to work. He was a bit beyond tired, but the rods needed to be made, and he couldn't afford to wimp out. If he was unable to charge them, he would have to stop, but until then he'd just push on...for the greater good… or whatever.
Now that there was wood available as well as copper, he decided to try a combo rather than starting slow with a bit of wood to see how it worked on its own first. He was too eager to see if the wood and copper together were actually better. Recalling Harold's offer to help, he asked the elf to come outside with him to hollow out some of the wooden pieces. Harold was eager to help which made Rabastan wonder how bored he usually was. He hollowed out the wood by Apparating out a bit of the center, which was impressive. Rabastan knew he'd have shattered the wood if he'd tried that shit.
"Now I just need to sort how to keep the copper from falling back out of the hole in the wood," Rabastan mused aloud. "I could use a sticking charm, but for all I know the blast could dislodge it."
Harold frowned in thought. For some reason he'd left the plague doctor mask off for this work so Rabastan was aware of his expressions for good or ill. "Harold could melt the copper just a little so that it melds to the wood."
Rabastan grinned. "Brilliant." After a moment of watching the elf work he asked, "So like you use cooking concepts a lot in practical magic, then?"
Harold chuckled softly. "No. Elves use practical magic concepts to cook. We use things most wizards have forgotten because they are so basic. Some of the greatest power is. It merely involves truly seeing and understanding how a thing works."
"That shit is getting deep," Rabastan said.
Harold worked fast, and soon Rabastan had a copper and wooden rod from each wood type to work with.
After he made each into a blasting rod, he then made rods from each type of wood without the copper added. Harold helped with those as well, melting the wood around the quartz ball as Rabastan had done with the copper. Again, this was impressive shit for Rabastan, for if he had attempted to melt wood rather than just burning it, that shit would burn baby burn!
"How do you melt the wood rather than fucking burning it?"
Harold shrugged. "Harold mixes a bit of water with the fire to slow the process. This action, when applied from the inside of the wood out, simply melts the molecules of the wood rather than allowing them to catch fire. Elves have applied it in the kitchen when putting out accidental cooking fires."
"How do you know this shit?' Rabastan asked. "I mean, I don't ever see you hanging out with other elves to get all this deep elf lore and shit."
Harold grinned. "Elves are all born with a DNA code that allows each of us to gain all the knowledge our ancestors have amassed over the ages."
Rabastan felt his jaw dropping. "Wow! Really? That's bloody awesome! It's not fair that wizards don't have that shit!" He leaned forward eagerly. "What else did you learn from these codes that I might find useful?"
Harold laughed. "Harold learned that humans will probably believe anything! Mr. Rabastan should be careful of that!" The elf slapped his knees, still laughing as he rocked back and forth in a state of glee that Rabastan had, of course, never seen from him before.
He frowned, because the little fucker was laughing at him! "So there is no DNA code," he asked darkly.
Harold shook his head. "Not in the least. Harold learned from his parents, and an aunt, when he was a child."
Rabastan suddenly stood, snatching one of the blasting rods from the completed pile at his feet. "Well, you're about to learn a new lesson," he said, making his tone low and ominous. His own smile of glee grew as the laughter slowly faded from Harold's face. "Lestranges do not at all take kindly to being laughed at. In fact, we torture the fuck out of anyone who laughs at us, ever!"
Harold's amusement was replaced by an expression of shock, and it was Rabastan's turn to laugh.
"Ha! Got you! We may torture people who laugh at us, but never if it's friends or family. As you're fucking family, you get to fuck with me without any consequences other than being fucked with in return."
Harold laughed, but Rabastan could see in the elf's large blue eyes that he kinda liked being considered part of the Lestrange family. That was all nice and shit, but for the emotional rubbish that Rabastan really, really detested!
"Right then," he said briskly. "Let's try all these rods to see which we like best, because you and I get first fucking pick!"