The Lost Heir of Ilvermony

Wight of a Wand and a Dream

Teddy Lupin pulls me out of Transfiguration the Friday before the first task. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer he just takes me to Picquery’s office where the other champions are with there headmasters. Even Old William is here arms crossed at the whole inconvenience. Picquery nods, “Lyra this is the wand weighing ceremony.”

I breath out smiling as I enter the room, “Right.”

An old blind woman is sitting on a stool, she Marcela Beauvais her family has made wands in America since the beginning. She nods toward me, “Now that we’re all here we may begin.” 

Saya steps forward pointing her wand its polished wood shining in the cold sunlight. “It’s-”

“Cherry wood,” She finishes her delicate hands tracing along the wand. “Unyeilding 12 inches with dragon heartstring.” Beauvais gives it flick as a long red silk scarf sprouts from the tip. The old witch runs here leather hands over the silk. “A fine wand my child who crafted?”

“Master Kenji Ishii.” Saya says taking the wand back, bowing she sits in an empty chair. 

Ocar is next he holds out his wand, to the woman. As soon as she touches it she smiles warmly. “Mulungu wood 13 and a half inches high amount of flexibility. The maker?”

“The great Ah kʼinob Torquemada.”

“Its core is animal horn yes.”

Oscar nods. “Anhangá antler Ma’am.”

Tapping is on the stone floor an orchid grows out of the polished stone. “Yes very good, Son.”

He takes it back his eye flush with pride. I look at my own wand I know the wood and core but the maker is unknown to me. Still I place it in her waiting hands she shutters at it as it rejects her touch. “This is a family wand?”

“No Ma’am I received it here at Ilvermorny when I was eleven.”

“Interesting. This wand is very old meant to be passed down.” Beauvais hold it under her nose smelling it deeply. “Yes very old more then 300 years yet its magic is only now used. This is a phoenix feather core yes. “

“Yes” I look over at Old William who is smiling widely Picquery doesn’t look happy at all more like she swallowed a rotten egg. 

Beauvais nods holding it to her ear, “This wand has a sister. Somewhere out there and this wand is English in origin made the renowned Olivander family. There is a slightly yielding flexibility.” Gently she waves the wand calling a log form the fireplace I watch it turn in crystal vase. 

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Retelling the story in the common room that night I slip a bag into the fan letter. Ever Since the article in the Ghost came out painting me as a hardworking humble witch. I like it better than the skeeter article. Now I have fans I get letters mostly from younger witches and wizards but I still answer them back send along a badge. The Serpants made them selling them to other students making a nice profit from it.

At first I hated seeing my face everywhere but I’ve grown to like them. It has Pukewdige on one side shooting an arrow that spells out my name as it flies to the other side the arrow explodes into the word winner. As school champion they give me as many as I want to put into my thank you letters. Slipping the shooting creature into the envelope I sighed leaning back into my armchair. “Last one done.”