16 Jul 2023, 23:22
Much to do about Magic
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MBMBMBMaeve Blackmore had woken up on her 11th birthday to a very special letter. The thick parchment envelope with emerald calligraphy addressed to her had been long expected. Her mother claimed it had been since she was born, but her extensive reading of Hogwarts a History at her mother and governess's request had told her otherwise. A Quill Room existed where her first instance of magic triggered the admissions process, saving her name until it was time to receive the formality.
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Once it arrived, her mother had sent word she would be coming within the week to begin preparations for the following year. Maeve had always wanted her mother to spend more time at home, but her return to the estate held an ominous nature to it. Whatever the woman was up to, Maeve just knew it wouldn't mean playing tea and rekindling. No, her mother was plotting something, and it had her stomach in knots.
Barely a week had passed before they were set to head to London. Her mother had wanted it to happen sooner to avoid the weekend hustle and bustle, but there would be no further delay. Gwyneira Blackmore had been unstoppable since her arrival on that Friday evening. Going on about a family trunk and how the smell of new books was just the best. There was pride in the woman's tone as she read over the letter as if she had never seen such a thing before. At least, that was the conclusion Maeve drew as she pushed her food around her plate.
Come morning; the young redhead could barely eat the eggs on her plate. She nibbled a corner of toast and sipped on her fizzy pumpkin juice. It had become her favorite, potentially because it frustrated her mother to no end.
Staff had been sent for some purchases. After all, there was no need to waste precious time on quills and books - a fact that had Maeve rather miffed. She loved the feel of parchment and wished to pick some colored inks for her personal writings. She'd wanted a journal to write in and chronicle her time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Something to look fondly upon. She'd also read introspection, and notes could help one perform better. Instead, she'd been left at the door of a dark shop with rounded windows. Gold lettering overhead claiming the shop as Ollivanders, purveyor of fine wands since 382 B.C.
She wondered what went into wand making. Not every country used such catalysts, though it had become widespread. Unfortunate. Yet she felt it was part of that globalization one of her history tutors droned on about in some rant. Mostly, she enjoyed how his mustache flared, and his cheeks grew deep with aggravation.
Inside the shop, long, thin boxes rested haphazardly over one another in a display she imagined would have caused her mother to frown. It was the type of chaos the woman couldn't abide by, and the sight of it, contrary to the level of organization instilled in her, made her step forward with curiosity. Before she could venture much further, a voice came from behind the counter.
— Ah, miss Blackmore...yes, I've been expecting you...
It was so ominous, yet she had become accustomed to adults knowing her name before she knew theirs. She assumed it was merely her mother and her seemingly endless connections. A first wand was thrust upon her, with a prompt to give it a wave.
She did as she was told, taking a deep breath and waving as she'd been taught with a beautifully crafted stick. This was meant to help her gain knowledge of wand movement. Every little bit to give her advantages once school started. No sooner had she made a small smile of a line, that boxes and their contents went flying over her head and onto the floor with a clatter.
— Definitely not!
The length of wood was snatched from her grasp faster than she thought possible, and the boxes she'd sent flying to the ground magically stacked themselves back at the man's request. Another length of wood was given to her, a shorter and a rich caramel color length. It felt odd in her grasp, and when she moved to wave it again, a nearby vase shattered into pieces.
— No, no, no, and no!
The man seemed to be getting angry, and Maeve feared she'd never find her wand, that he would write to Hogwarts and assure them she had no magical ability, and this was all a mistake. Her heart sank, but then another box was brought, and she reluctantly grabbed the length of wood. It was dainty and beautiful, almost ivory in color. She held it as she'd been taught, but it, too, was yanked before she could try.
— I wonder...
The man looked towards her and looked her up and down. He seemed to consider things before moving further into the store to pull out a dusty box. Inside lay a length of dark shining wood. Before she even waved it, Maeve knew. There was something in the way it fit her palm. As though warmth spread through her fingers and up her arm. A breeze of warmth and light enveloped her, making her curls fly.
— 22,5 cm cherry wood and phoenix feather. Unyielding, very effective for silent spells, perfect for defense spells.
The explanation rang in her ears as she watched the carefully spun wood between her porcelain fingers. She'd never considered needing to defend herself, and the idea of silent spells certainly pleased her. With a bright smile, she thanked the wandcrafter and paid him his galleons. Her mother was right after all; there was much to do before September rolled along.
