Every Journey Begins With That First Step @Simon Kincaid

Diagon Alley. Ugggghhh.

Absolutely not one of AngelFyre’s favorite places in the world. However, standing hand in hand with Simon, outside of Ollivanders, she had to admit his enthusiasm for all things magic, as it frequently did, had her smiling, even if the output was only one quarter to one half of her normal smile wattage.

“Simon,” and she looked over at him with some degree of unease as she asked, “do you think there is something fundamentally wrong with me in that unlike everyone else I… that we… both know at school, I seem to be the only one who is not completely gung-ho about magic?” She turned away after asking because this was a subject that more than anything roiled within her. He had heard bits and pieces of her misgivings about magic, but she was embarrassed to go deeper about it with him because Simon Ezra Kincaid was all about magic. It lit him up and sparked every fiber of his being with curiosity and delight, but not so with AngelFyre.

Magic scared her. No, scared was not exactly the right word. It put her on guard in a way that electricity might if she came upon a downed, live power line. She knew electricity itself was not necessarily bad, but it could be dangerous. It could also bring about great good by easing suffering and making all kinds of progress possible. It was a magnificent power to be harnessed, but you had to give it its due respect. Failure to do so could be detrimental to one’s health and possibly to those around them. That is as close an analogy to what she felt about magic as she could put into words in her own mind, yet that was still inadequate, and even that only touched the tip of her concerns.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with him, she wondered how it was that her good, Roman Catholic choir boy of a boyfriend could just accept it all so readily? He was so doggedly determined to find out everything he could about the things they were taught at Hogwarts, but he never seemed to question the thing itself. His girl could not be more different from him in that respect. The unease she felt so much of the time about exactly what “magic” was and where it came from kept her anxiety levels at a constant, low-rumbling idle most nights. As an insomniac, she did not sleep long before she knew of magic, but it certainly was another thing keeping her up at nights now.

Primarily her concern centered around the “source of magic”. Who or what was it? That was certainly something that did not appear on any syllabus she had seen at school. Her big worry was that she and Simon… and everyone else attending their school… were simply pawns in a dark game and they had both suited up for the wrong team.

Her faith taught her there was a Prince of Darkness, waging spiritual battles all around them, unseen and unheard, for the very souls and principalities on this earth. People questioned and mocked people like her and Simon, Christians, for believing in a God they could not see; for having ‘faith’ in the unknown. Is that not what they had all been doing with magic? At least there was a rich history, a trail of breadcrumbs, that led to the beginning of her Christian faith. Where was that with magic? How was it that she, and the love of her life alike, “were of magic’?

How did THAT happen and what did it even mean? What was the source?

Simon wanted to know of his father, and AngelFyre got that, but it befuddled her sometimes that he just so readily accepted this wondrous thing about himself… about her…. with nary a question.

Sigh.

Her free hand had been slowly fingering the long box in her deep coat pocket. The box, and the contents within, had been given to her the Christmas of 2021 after her first term at Hogwarts. It contained a wand that as best as her mother and Grandma Ruth had been able to determine belonged to her great grandfather(x4), otherwise known as Crawford Ingram Godshall. It came down to her through Grandpa Ezra’s side of the family. Both he and Grandma Ruth had simply thought it a decorative item and nothing more, but when AngelFyre received the beck and call to Hogwarts, Grandma Ruth had been jostled into wondering if there was not more to this “beautiful stick”.

So, here she and Simon stood, outside of Ollivanders, preparing to find out anything they could about this wand, and hopefully, maybe a little about AngelFyre herself. She did not hold a great deal of hope in learning anything, but it was the best place she knew to start.

Peering up at the signage above the door, AngelFyre marveled that there was any business on the face of the earth that could claim its origins all the way back to a time that pre-dated Christ. Now that little factoid did interest her very much. She was not completely immune to the wonders around her; just cautious.

As Simon reached over to open the door, she grasped his hand and stopped him, saying with some degree of mild apprehension mixed with embarrassment, “You know, it is entirely possible this will be a waste of time. There is the possibility that this really will turn out to be nothing more than a “beautiful stick” as Grandma Ruth has often called it in the past,” and she pulled him off to the side, out of the direct path right in front of the entrance. “I cannot tell you from where the feelings come, but all of this,” and she gestured the hand that had been holding his around her, indicating the goings on all about them before turning her narrowing eyes to the entrance of the wand shop, “has me wanting to jump out of my skin, love.” Before even thinking, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into the crook of his neck, just wanting the comfort she always found in his arms.

“It is silly, I know, but it is how I feel”, she whispered into his neck, her lips barely grazing against his pulse point. “And if you are wondering, the answer is no. This is not related to any vision.”

And then she just sighed and held onto him as if her life depended upon doing so.

This May Not Be A Goose Chase After All, @Simon Kincaid

"You're just a little off," he had said to her. She had to chuckle. That was the understatement of the year. Leave it to Simon to brand her angst and confusion with his own particular brand of self-assuredness. He was most likely correct. Or she hoped so anyway, but she wholeheartedly took exception to one thing he had said.

She stepped back from the embrace to get a good look at his face. He was smiling, but it was not his usual teasing, come hither playfulness animating his countenance. It was Simon being his most thoughtfully, sincere self. "You know, Simon, I absolutely adore how you see me… how you think of me…, but you know better than to think I am "absolutely pure in every way.' In fact, my love, you would be positively scandalized to know some of the things I actually think and feel sometimes. A saint I am most definitely not, and for that, you should be very thankful," and she laughed as she leaned into him for a delicious kiss.

After that happy little interlude, she turned her focus down to her fingers now toying with one of the drawstrings to his hoodie and then looked up again to smile into the most beautiful pair of eyes to ever look upon her. On an impulse, she slowly ran her hand through his hair. It never messed it up whenever she did so, and she loved doing it, mainly because he let her do it. The boy was rigidly fanatical about his gorgeous mop, so she was very much aware that it was a big concession on his part to allow her the honor. She did take advantage of doing so as often as she could. Luckily for her, he actually seemed to enjoy it.

AngelFyre then took that same hand that moments before had played though his hair and reached once again for his hand. "Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "Let us go see what we shall see, shall we?" Simon smiled encouragingly at her and walked her back over to the door, opening it for her. The door could not have swung open more than 3"- 4" before a bell overhanging the door jamb tinkled out the slightly tinny announcement of their presence.

And another angel has just gotten its wings.

The shop, just as she had remembered from her first visit, was rather dark. Her eyes were still adjusting to the dimness when she heard a man’s voice greet them from just ahead and off to the right. “Ah, Miss McCubbin and Sir Kincaid. How very nice to see you both again, though if memory serves, when last we three did see each other, you two were not together,” and AngelFyre could have sworn she saw an actual diamond glint of light sparkle in his eye for the merest fraction of a second when the word ‘together’ rolled off of his tongue as easily and fluidly as silk from a bolt. How anything could glint and sparkle in there with so little light was a mystery to her, but she reminded herself almost anything was possible with magic. Almost.

"I do believe a beautiful, 30.8 cm cherry wood wand chose you, Miss McCubbin, if I am not mistaken, and I know I am not. A very discerning wand it was, with unicorn hair for its core. It was a swishy wand, keen on discoveries and experiences, a wand that desired an owner in its own image; dynamic, curious, and adventurous.” He leveled his gaze upon her, with the barest hint of a smile turning up at the corners of his mouth. Then silently he placed his hand out towards her over the counter and wriggled his fingers exactly twice, beckoning her to turn her wand over to him for inspection. Without a second thought, she readily complied.

“I see that you take very good care of it,” he said just loudly enough that she could hear him, but AngelFyre had the distinct feeling Mr. Ollivander was speaking more to himself in that moment.

She did not know why it surprised her that Mr. Ollivander knew her name… or Simon’s… but it did. When she had entered the shop some 17 months earlier for the first and only time up until this moment, she had seen and heard him greet every single person that came in by their surnames, including herself when she finally walked up to the counter to seek his help in finding a wand for her first term at Hogwarts. It was just one of many things that had surprised her Muggle born soul that day, but it was also one of the friendliest.

Still grasping Simon’s hand, but smiling sincerely at Mr. Ollivander, she stepped even closer to the counter. Her eyes quickly darted around, now having adjusted to the lighting conditions. Long, slender boxes, were piled from floor to ceiling high almost everywhere she looked. She was astounded that the place was not absolutely covered in dust, but it was not. What a nightmare this place must be to keep clean, and then she chuckled. Once again, her Muggle born thinking trumped magical thinking. Would it always be so with her? Of course Mr. Ollivander did not struggle to keep the dust and dust mites at bay when he had the use of magic. Get it together, AngelFyre. Focus.

Quite out of nowhere, Mr. Ollivander offered, “So, you are a left-handed witch I see." He turned his gaze from her wand and lowered his chin to his neck, peeking over the rim of his eyeglasses at her. “Most interesting. It is not completely unheard of, but it is rare. That alone would have likely had you hanged or drowned in the Colonies not all that long ago,” and he made a sharp little sound that almost sounded like a solitary “tsk”.

Not long ago? What was he talking about? The Salem witch trials, if that is what he was referencing, took place over 300 years ago. Then she remembered she was in a place of business that had been around 300 years before Christ stepped foot on this earth. Three hundred years to Mr. Ollivander, or to his family, was maybe not so long ago. Their temporal perspectives were clearly different.

Intrigued, however, she was moved to ask him, “How in the world could you know I am left handed, Mr. Ollivander?” and she found herself leaning over the counter, closing the distance between them, as if she might somehow be able to see something that would have clued him into that about her. He looked at her for a few more seconds over the rim of his eyeglasses before stating with an honest smile, “There is that curious mind at work. Excellent!” And he slapped a palm onto the counter and leaned over to meet her, their faces but mere inches apart.

“You have not had your wand long, but you have used it quite a bit, I note. I suspect you may be a Duellist, am I correct?” He looked at her and she nodded. “Yes, I thought so. Duellists seem to use their wands more at this stage than say, Potioneers. All that practice, I imagine,” and he chortled. Then leaning in even closer and turning her wand just so, he pointed out to her a spot on her wand. “See this part of your wand towards the crown, or top? It is just infinitesimally worn towards the right, or inside edge of your wand - the inside edge being the side closest to your body. If you were right handed, the wearing down would be on the left inside edge. This wearing down is from your thumb and because it is directional, it tells me what hand you cast with.” He stood up straight at that moment and looked at her curiously before handing her wand back over to her. AngelFyre reached for it and immediately began to look for the spot he had been talking about.

“You can look all you wish, Miss McCubbin, but the wearing down I spoke of will likely be impossible for your untrained eye to pick up, and that is as it should be since wands are my business. Give it about 20 or more years and you may begin to see a hint of what I am speaking about now,” and he chuckled. Then he turned his attention to Simon.

“Ah. Sir Kincaid. A quite striking walnut wand with a dragon heartstring core called out to you if I am not mistaken, and I know I am not.” Looking at Simon over his glasses, just as he had done with AngelFyre, he put his hand out and wriggled his fingers exactly twice.

“Let us see what we shall see, shall we?” and he smiled ever so slightly at the two as they first looked to him and then to each other in wonder as they heard for the second time the very phrase AngelFyre had used not 10 minutes prior.

Godshall @Simon Kincaid

As Mr. Ollivander looked over Simon's wand, there was a part of her that maybe halfway expected him to measure up Simon and determine that perhaps the wand had chosen incorrectly. She had no earthly clue whether it had or not, but she did know that her wand felt like an old friend whenever she held it. Simon had made mention more than once that he did not get that same kind of close familiarity with his wand. They had often discussed that his dhampirism could be part of that "bonding blockage", for lack of a better phrase, but who knew? There was so much to learn on their plates right now with current Hogwarts curriculum that the addition of wand lore, although probably most interesting, was not something either truly knew much about. Knowing Simon as she did, it would not surprise her that at some point before he graduated, he would have notebooks full of information on wands. The thought made her smile as that would be a very good, and very Simon-like thing to do.

Not entirely unexpectedly, Mr. Ollivander did not in fact declare that Simon's wand had made a mistake. AngelFyre, upon a few moments reflection, was not even convinced that it was in Mr. Ollivander's purview to be able to make such a declaration. The Ollivanders were renowned for their wandmaking abilities, but AngelFyre wondered if it were not a fact that the wands took on lives and characteristics of their own beyond what the Ollivanders could take credit for or be responsible for in the creation. There must be something even a little sentient in a wand if it was the one doing the choosing, must there not? AngelFyre did not know and today was not the day she would find out. As Mr. Ollivander handed Simon back his wand, she knew it was time to state her business.

"Sir, my maternal grandmother gave this over to me as a family heirloom," and AngelFyre pulled the long, slender box out of her coat pocket and placed it on the counter before him. It was a beautiful hinged box made of some sort of burled wood that AngelFyre thought might be from a pear tree, but again, who knew? When opened, it contained a long, beautiful white-ish wand made of a wood AngelFyre had never seen before. The box was unlined with any kind of velvet or other material, but there were dark ovals all around the rim in regular intervals that appeared to be dried glue, indicating there had been some cushioning material in there at some point. The inside of the lid had been engraved with the name Ollivanders, but that was all it said. That engraving looked to be an add-on to the box, quite honestly, in AngelFyre's estimation, but she was now standing before the man who would definitely know.

"My mother and grandmother did some research in our family and they believe they have this traced back to my great, great great, great grandfather,". She stopped for just a few seconds as Mr. Ollivander turned the box around and began to look at the wand. "I have brought it in to you today, Sir, because I was hoping that there might be something you could tell me about the wand itself. For instance, is it in fact imbued with magic or is it simply a prop... a beautiful stick, if you will?" Licking her lips quickly and then casting a glance over to Simon, she finished with a hopeful, "Maybe you might even be able to share something, if you do know anything, about the person it once belonged to? Really, Mr. Ollivander, anything you can tell me at all would be very helpful."

As she had been speaking, Mr. Ollivander had been examining the wand very closely. He at one point put it up to one eye and closed the other while running his long, boney fingers along its length. AngelFyre did not ask what he was doing, or why he was doing it, but it looked to her as if he was trying to determine how straight the wand might be. She did not rule out some other metric he was testing as the man had been able to detect some impossibly small rubbing or indentation on her own wand that indicated to him she was a left handed caster.

She and Simon both stood there in absolute silence as Mr. Ollivander continued his inspection of the wand. Everything AngelFyre knew about it was that it came to her Grandpa Ezra from his great (x2) grandfather who had been a man of some ill repute in the American west. They had found something that had led them to believe he was a very lucky gambler… possibly too lucky, in fact. He had married a woman who had been some sort of itinerant, evangelical faith healer, and was apparently fairly well known in her time.

AngelFyre mentioned none of this to Mr. Ollivander because she wanted to know what he knew. The background her Grandma Ruth and mother had uncovered was sketchy at best, and honestly, her ancestors, sad to say, sounded rather like snake oil salesmen and cheats. She was also curious if the wand really came from Ollivanders or whether the box had come on the scene later as just something to keep the wand safe within. If it actually had come to Great Grandpa (x4) Godshall from Ollivanders, that would mean he, or some member of his family had been in England to get it at some point.

Mr. Ollivander was essentially silent in that he spoke no intelligible words, but he was clicking and tsking and occasionally tapping his teeth together. He looked to AngelFyre after a couple of minutes and told her he would be back shortly, and before she or Simon could say a word, he had already turned and had very quickly disappeared into the darkness of the back of the shop with the wand and the box.

She turned to Simon and smiled. “Well, the fact that he did not give an unceremonious, absolute ‘No.’ to it being an Ollivander wand gives me some hope that I might get some answers. Or, if not answers, at least some verifications. What would you say to….” and before she could finish her sentence, Mr. Ollivander reappeared from the veil of darkness. Simon could probably see him coming a mile away, but it rather startled AngelFyre.

“What you have here, Ms. McCubbin, is most definitely more than a “beautiful stick” as you referred to it earlier. It is a 33.4 cm silver lime wood and unicorn hair wand. Like yours, it is swishy. It is a beautiful example of my grandfather’s handiwork, I must say. The wood, silver lime, was a very hot commodity in the 1800’s because it is beautiful for one thing, but also because it was associated with Seers and those witches and wizards who had the gift of Legilimency.”

AngelFyre took a sudden intake of breath the moment she heard Mr. Ollivander say ‘Seer’. Simon had been silent the whole time, but his hand reached out for hers in that moment. So, this may be possible confirmation, at least in part, of what she herself was, but all she really knew at the moment was what the wand was. She needed more information on the person it chose, otherwise she was just speculating about her past.

Clearing her throat, she asked what she now most wanted… needed to know. “Sir, do you by any chance have any information on who the wand chose, or is that privileged information?”

Mr. Ollivander stood up straight and eyed her once again over the rim of his eye glasses, tapping one long, boney finger on the top of the display case. “Well, you see Ms. McCubbin, it is the policy of….” and AngelFyre most uncharacteristically interrupted him before he could become too entrenched in his forthcoming denial.

“I recognize it could be seen as a breach of privacy for you to give me the name, but would you possibly be able to see your way clear to maybe verifying a name if I were to tell you who my family believed it belonged to?” She looked earnestly at the man. He was still debating how to respond because, of course, her suggestion would be just as much a violation. Still, something overtook her in the moment and before he could utter another word, AngelFyre said simply and clearly, “Godshall. Crawford Godshall.”

Even in the dimness, she trained her eyes on Mr. Ollivander for any sign of recognition on his face upon hearing that name. She believed she had it when he quickly cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips together, his eyes also trained on her. Slowly his breath released in a raspy hiss, but his tone was not at all unfriendly or mocking when he spoke. “You have a quick tongue, Ms. McCubbin, and you have an even quicker,” and he leaned back in towards her, his eyes crinkling at the outside edges, “mind.”

That was it. He said nothing more, but a small smile played hide and seek at the corner of his mouth. It was a non-verification verification if ever there was one. Okay, she thought. I really do have something to go on here.

She turned to Simon who was now smiling at her and how could she not smile back at him. She felt lighter somehow. There was still much to learn, but the puzzle was coming together and that was what mattered most right now. She reached for the boxed wand that Mr. Ollivander was holding out to her, and she thanked him profusely for his help and for his time.

She placed the box back in her coat pocket and she and Simon were turning to leave when Mr. Ollivander walked from behind the counter and beckoned her to him some 20 feet or so away from Simon. She started towards him, looking back over her shoulder to see Simon looking a bit confused, taking a small step or two in the direction she was headed, but he stopped at that. He did not seem anxious or on alert, only curious, so she relaxed and turned her full attention to Mr. Ollivander. As she got close enough, he grasped his hands behind his back and turned his back to Simon, as her back was to Simon as well. He started to say something to her, but he stopped himself and looked back over his shoulder to Simon.

“Sincerest apologies for the rudeness, Sir Kincaid. This will only take but a few moments,” and then he turned his back to Simon once again and began to tell AngelFyre some incredible things. Life-changing things. She listened with great interest and all she could do was nod mutely when asked if she understood. And then just as quickly as he had started he had finished and AngelFyre found herself walking back over to Simon’s side.

Just a little shell shocked, she smiled up at him and took his hand. Looking over her shoulder, she nodded to Mr. Ollivander and mouthed a silent ‘Thank you.’ They were just at the door when he called out to Simon.

“Fret not, Sir Kincaid. The wands always know the wizard meant for them. All will be made clear in time.”

Simon looked at him with a questioning look, but Mr. Ollivander was already busying himself with a ledger on the counter in front of him as if the matter was closed. It was.

“Come on, love,” and she tugged gently on his hand. “Let us now go delight ourselves in Flourish & Blotts and maybe afterwards we can hit Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. I have a special order I need to place there, and do not even ask me what it is because it is a surprise for my favorite fellow.”