The Wandmaker

The Art of Humility

CHAPTER              f o u r t e e n

The next three days were some of the most content of Symbida's life, nicer than the lonely days of her childhood and calmer than the days she did not yet know lay ahead. Perhaps it was silly of her to feel that way, with a potentially permanently disabled arm and a recent terrifying encounter with some sort of creature of the night - but the gentle rhythm of waking, talking with Ollivander, eating lovely slow cooked meals, and breathing in the scent of wands was very quickly becoming one of her favourite things yet.

Her mood had quickly improved as her drowsiness had worn off, and she had found she was able to read books with one good arm, and was promptly devouring Ollivander's small collection of literature with the endless time available to her.  She had developed a habit of ceasing to acknowledge her injured arm at all, and so had spent several days in peaceful bed rest.

Not everything was perfect, however. Ollivander had contacted Hogwarts about Symbida's absence, not delving too deep into the details - and though he had assured her that everything was under control, she couldn't help but overhear his strained conversations with various staff of Hogwarts from the floor fireplace the floor below. Having spent so much time in the grand castle, it was a strange thought to realise that even a few days away was setting her behind, especially with summer exams looming.

Using Ollivander's owl, Symbida even tried to send a message to Professor Gawndrey - surely he would understand, and help her cause! After all, they had spent reasonable time in "counselling sessions" ever since her first run-in with Lampurn.

No reply.

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The third morning brought change.

Since Ollivander had rescued her off the ground in the darkness, Symbida hadn't cast her mind to the future - too trapped in the timeless net of comfort. But when Ollivander woke her with the news of 'suspension' from Hogwarts, it was a sharp slap to the face.

"Suspension?" she echoed.

"Ah, yes, my dear. I'm afraid they couldn't be persuaded otherwise... not even when I offered to tutor you for the missed classes." He sighed. "They seem to be very suspicious of the whole ordeal - to be frank, I believe it is all to do with the headmistress. Never liked you, it seems."

Symbida chuckled. "That's an understatement and a half. She hates my guts!"

But the wandmaker simply raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Hate was a strong word, and hard to take back, too. "It's only for a month, anyhow, this whole suspension thing. I'm afraid they won't let you take any examinations or supplementary work, you'll just have a fail grade for every subject."

Time is a strange thing. Something must have changed in Symbida's heart, but the word 'fail' didn't cut through her as much as it used to. Last year, she would have been up in arms, fighting and demanding to be given a try at the exams at any cost. She would have locked herself away if rejected, perhaps even written an angry poem about how hard her life was. At least one other witch would have been subjected to a whiny rant about how unfair she was being treated, and the Witchcraft and Wizardry Education Board would have received an official complaint.

But perhaps she was older, or a little wiser, or had learnt when to sit back and take it. She saw now a choice - to keep being that self-entitled girl with a bratty, superior attitude, or to put her head down, work hard, and learn to make goodness out of what she was given. When her temporary caretaker wandered downstairs to conjure a few mugs of tea and breakfast, her choice was made.