Mafalda Prewett-Weasley

The Celebrity and the Wand

I was surprised when another guest showed up that night. It was none other than Harry Potter himself! Of course, I kept my cool. I shook his hand coldly, ate dinner, and then wandered back down to my room. In truth, it was strange knowing I was living in the same house as a celebrity.

The days droned on; I mostly stayed inside, but Aunt Molly insisted I at least go into the, ugh, outdoors to watch the others play Quidditch.

I was also required to travel with Percy, Ron, and Harry to help get my school supplies. I scanned over my Aunt's list, marked off the few things I already owned, and crossed out the word "pet".

Harry noticed it was gone almost instantly.

"Why don't you want a pet?" he asked me, confused. "Getting Hedwig is just about one of the best things that happened to me when I was your age."

I raised an eyebrow, not in the slightest way flustered by his incompetence. "I don't need some scruffy little creature around to interrupt my studies at Hogwarts. After all, why else would I be attending but to learn, and heighten my academic standards?"

He stared at me for a moment, and then looked over at Ron. "She sounds a whole lot like Hermione."

"She does, doesn't she? I never noticed. Bloody he..." Ron stopped his sarcastic rant when I glared at him.

I knew who Hermione was; he had talked enough about her since he had first come to Hogwarts. I couldn't remember a visit I had taken to my cousins' in the last four years that he hadn't brought her up.

She sounded smart, but I couldn't really be sure if he was just exaggerating: Ron tends to do that a lot.

Our last stop was Olivander's Wand Shop; I was practically interested in learning about wands at Hogwarts. Fred and Georges' seemed to have minds of their own, and I heard that Harry's had a rather rare core. Having my wand choose me was an exciting thing to think about while a wasted away in normal, in-advanced school for the first few years of my life.

Well, now it was happening. I admired the many wands in boxes around the shop, when suddenly an old man came out from the back. I assumed he was Mr. Olivander, considering his great age, and the sense of wisdom that followed him.

"Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Good to see you again. And, the Weasley's: back for another round?" he looked me over. "Who might you be, young lady?"

"Mafalda. Mafalda Weasley." I put out my hand to shake his in a proper fashion. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance,"

He appeared a bit surprised at my language skills -they always are- but shook my hand accordingly.

"Same to you. Now, should we begin?"

I doubt he was excepting a reply, but...

"Whenever you're ready,"

I could already see Ron icily glaring at me, and Harry exchanging a perplexed look with Percy.

Olivander came back to the front with a dusty wand case. When he took it out, I could identify it easily.

"Black Walnut?" I asked.

"Precisely; 11 inches, Dragon heartstring," he smiled slightly. "Made for the most powerful witches and wizards: I believe it would suit you well,"

I swished it as he placed it in my hand: the lights flickered eerily, and a loud screech was heard in the back of the shop. We all covered our ears.

"Perhaps not." he took it back, and then we tried out a few other...dozen.

All of them ended less than well.

He stopped trying, and pondered hard for almost five minutes.

I stepped behind his desk slightly, and coughed to get his attention. "May I?" I gestured to the wands.

He looked shocked, but intrigued with my authoritive manner.

"Please, do."

I felt all three pairs of eyes on me, as I ran my hands over the cases. It was almost as though every wand had its own personality: its own heartbeat. At last, I reached one that seemed to vibrate up my arm when I touched it.

I walked back over to the counter, and opened it.

"Yew wood," I thought hard as I felt the grooves in its decorative end. "Unicorn hair core..." I flicked it, and a vase that I had knocked down earlier flew back into place. "Hard flexibility,"

"Interesting that this one would pick you, my dear." he examined the wand as he measured it. "9 ½ inches. Shorter wands like this tend to choose magic-users who...lack something in character."

I considered his words, and then pushed my glasses back up my nose. "Thank you Mr. Olivander. Wonderful meeting you,"

"You as well." the man watched me intently as we left, leaving me with a sort of chilling feeling.