Bad Romance,
Chapter 108, Blasting Rod
The meeting broke, not because there wasn't more that could perhaps be accomplished or figured out, but mostly because everyone was tired. When one was too tired, thoughts became muddled, and things were missed, as Gellert pointed out. Before everyone apparated away to their respective homes, Gellert handed out assignments as it were.
"Bella, you and Mag have stones to study while Blaise and I sort out the potential of the scrying crystals that Kreacher figured out. Rodolphus, I would like you to research Crom Dubh a bit more when it comes to luck and being unlucky where he can be involved. Regulus, I would like you to research druid magic, as it may help us to more quickly figure out the kind of magic used to enchant these items. We all know magical techniques change over time greatly, and this matters in such a case. Kreacher, take a few more of the items to study if any particularly grab your attention. Just bring them back next week. Rabastan...I'd like you to take a few moments before you go home to study this blasting rod."
As Grindelwald spoke, he drew the rod from his sleeve and proffered it to Rabastan.
"You were the one to figure out what it does, after all, and that means something. Don't think that Blaise and I haven't played with each of these items at least once, because we have. Neither of us made the blasting rod discharge, but you did, so it makes me believe you have an affinity for such magics. I think perhaps you could even produce blasting rods if given the proper time. I'd at least like for you to give it a try."
Rabastan blinked in mild surprise, but nodded. He hadn't thought his figuring out the thing really meant anything seeing as how it had been on complete accident. The fact Grindelwald nor Zabini had managed to make the blasting rod do anything when holding it made him feel a bit impressed with himself.
"I could give it a go, but no promises," he warned.
"Just because I could make it work, doesn't mean I can make another."
But as he'd love one of his own, he would bloody sure give it a good hard go. In fact his mind was already working over the logistics of the thing. Did the material matter, or was this simply what Merlin and Nimue had available at the time? He supposed he could try metal and wood to see which worked better, if he even came up with any ideas of how to construct a blasting rod in the first place. Before that, though, he'd have to put his mind on where to get the materials.
She must have read something of this on his face, for Mag Snape spoke up.
"I can get you some short wooden staffs and some metal wands that haven't already been charged to do anything if that would help? Then you would have some material to practice with."
He smiled gratefully. She was a wand maker, and though a blasting rod wasn't precisely a wand, he supposed it was close enough so he'd take any help a wand maker was willing to give.
"Yeah that would be great. Thanks."
"The sooner you can get them to him, the better," Gellert said, and Mag nodded.
"Tomorrow should be possible," she said.
"And of course I get to keep one if you end up being able to make them," she told Rabastan.
He grinned. That was Slytherin enterprising for sure and he could appreciate the fuck out of that.
"Of course," he agreed readily.
With his quandary over materials out of the way, Rabastan was able to turn his full attention to studying the rod in his hand. He couldn't help wondering if metal wouldn't conduct better than the oak Merlin and Nimue had used. What if he could make an even stronger blasting rod with even more BLAST to it?! If so, that would be so bloody brilliant! The quartz orb in the tip did seem like the best stone choice, though, for it amplified.
"Um, can you get copper rods," he asked Mag without glancing up from the heavy oak rod in his hand.
"I think so," Mag replied thoughtfully.
"I'll need to get started on it tonight, though, just to make sure I can have them to you by tomorrow. I need to write my goblin contact right away."
"Thank you," Gellert told her.
"No problem. I am glad to help," the red head replied, then apparated away with a crack.
Rabastan frowned in concentration as he tried to feel how the rod had been constructed. It just felt like a very strong wand, though, just as it had before he'd accidentally discharged it earlier believing it was only that.
"I need to try this again," he decided.
"Otherwise I won't get the feel for it that I need."
He stood up.
"I'll just go outside so that I don't kill any of you good Motherfuckers in my attempt to make something great."
"That, is much appreciated," Grindelwald said dryly, then chuckled.
Rabastan grinned.
"I thought it would be."
Rising he strolled from the library, then out of Grimmauld place. As he left, he could feel the silence in his wake. He knew everyone was hoping he could figure this out, because if all the Aurors had blasting rods to use against Delphini that would fucking rule. Plus every one of those motherfuckers in there wanted one as did he. So like them he was hoping he could do this.
If he couldn't, though, he knew they'd not be pissy about it. It wasn't as if he'd ever even made a wand before, much less a blasting rod, something quite specialized and not even seen today! In fact he didn't even think he'd ever heard of one that he could recall come to think of it. It made the fact Grindelwald thought to even hope he could create one all the more flattering.
He'd never been interested in making wands, so perhaps a blasting rod wasn't at all like a wand, even if the one in his hand had originally felt like one. That thought made him a bit more at ease with the hope he could figure out how it worked and thus how to make one of his own. If he started on a personal level, just thinking of one for himself, perhaps there would be less subconscious pressure on himself, he thought. Fuck, had he ever even thought the fucking word 'subconscious' before this fucking shrinking shit, he wondered darkly. Fuck if he'd ever tell anyone, Roddy and Bella included. Fuck if he'd be laughed at for that shit.
That decided, he was able to return his focus to the blasting rod. Standing on the lawn of #12 Grimmauld, he directed it into the night and unlike the previous go when he'd had no idea what he was holding, he actually attempted to send out a blast of magic. It worked, though the blast wasn't as strong as the accidental one inside had been. Fuck! Perhaps he was trying too hard. He'd not try then, he decided. He'd just let go and...yes, that did it! That was a good one. The boom caused by the erupting magic was bloody impressive! It would've surely fucked Delphini up but good had she been standing in its path. On the next go, he'd actually attempt to feel the power as it left the rod. That way, he'd hopefully understand how the process worked. To his annoyance, though, when he attempted the blast not a fucking thing happened!
"Fine," he growled through gritted teeth.
He'd just try again. Again nothing happened. It was then that he figured it out. The rod needed refilling or recharging or whatever. The magic to make the blast had to be stored in it in advance! Simple and brilliant. Now all he had to do was sort out how to store magic in this rod or anything else for that matter.
"Fuck!"
This was far far far easier said than fucking done. If storing magic were that easy everyone would have a blasting rod or at least its fucking equivalent in some form or other.
What if there was a spell for depositing magic in a thing though? Grindelwald was right. Magic was different now and like anything else with cultures as they came and went, knowledge got lost. Right now, though, the rod was blasted fresh out of magic and Grindelwald was going to be pissed. The German had wanted to keep the rod to use for himself, and it wasn't particularly useful at the moment.
Rabastan sighed and braced himself to go inside and share the shitty news. He was just turning to walk up the front stairs to reenter the manor when something about the rod in his hand tickled at his awareness. It felt somehow hollow, though he knew by the weight and heft of the thing that it could not be. It felt like solid oak. So why the impression that about ten centimeters of the bottom end furthest from the crystal orb was hollowed out? What if it wasn't physically hollow but magically hollow? Or what if the wood had slight internal fractures in that area to allow magic to seep into it more thoroughly. That was a weird thought, he thought, feeling mildly annoyed. Weird thoughts were fine, except when he did not fucking know how to use them. What the fuck was he supposed to do with that?
Closing his eyes, he wrapped both hands around the rod, allowing himself to sense the empty spot that had grasped his attention. It had to be where the magic was stored. But how did one produce raw magic? Then once one had done that, how the fuck did one put it into the rod? Taking in a deep breath, he let it out slowly, thinking of the concept of the magic he used when shattering the shit out of something. He loved releasing magic in violent ways. It felt good. It felt powerful! He focused his mind on the hollow bit he felt in the now empty blasting rod, and allowed himself to feel the magic of violent casting.
Squeezing the rod, clinging to the hollow spot with his mind, he imagined depositing that violence into the empty spot over and over. Oddly within three or so minutes of this he was utterly exhausted. With a sigh, he loosened his grip on the rod. He'd gone and somehow tired himself the fuck out and probably for nothing. He had no good reason to believe he'd actually done anything that had really worked, after all.
Just for the fuck of it, though, he turned away from the manor again and sent a blast into the night. The boom of magic that issued forth from the quartz ball on the tip of the rod caused him to whoop with joy. He'd done it! He'd done it! That meant once he worked out how Merlin and Nimue had made a hollow spot in the rod when it wasn't actually hollow at all, he could probably make one...and then several! Now, at least, he wouldn't have to go back in and tell Grindelwald that he no longer even had one functional blasting rod at the moment. Instead he could explain that he'd discovered that the blasts could run out, and also how to restore the power! Idly he wondered if people could learn to refill their own rods, or if he'd be paid to do that too. Because if other people weren't able to do it, he was certainly getting paid. That shit had been tiring!