Maggie

Chapter 7 - I Already Know

 My bedroom was dark, the curtains closed, and I turned the long, black box over and over. This was the first moment I had been able to have to myself all week. That's how long it had been since the scene in Olivander's. It was a relief to be able to think. Really think. I relished in the space I had, turning thoughts over in my head just like the box in my hands.

I had been extremely quiet the whole of the rest of our Diagon Alley trip, hardly speaking to anyone. I had managed to deflect my father when he had enquired after me, wondering why I was so silent, telling him I was just tired and overwhelmed by the day. He had seemed to take that fine. Nobody else even questioned my sullenness. It was too close to how I had always been around them, at least until recently.

In fact, the only time I had spoken to anyone was as dad and I was leaving the potter's house. My uncle had pulled me aside by the front door and knelt on the floor so our eyes were level.

"Maggie. I'm not worried about what Warwick Olivander said to us today. I don't think I need to be concerned about your being in possession of that wand. You were raised by good people. You're a good person. I trust you."

I made no reply. I knew there was a 'but' coming and I wanted to let him say his piece.

"But I don't think you should parade the details of your wand around at Hogwarts. You know, I know and Warwick knows. That's enough for now, I think."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Really? Why?"

He seemed to consider his words carefully. "Because..." he sighed. "Because it would draw a lot of unwanted attention to you and you don't want that. I don't actually know as much about you as maybe I should, but I know you well enough to realise you probably want to keep your head down and blend in. That when you make friends, you would want them to be genuine, and not for power-lust. You'd be much better off keeping this quiet."

I pondered his words while I sat there in tenebrosity of the bedroom. I lifted the lid from the box, pulling the wand out from amongst the green velvet it lay in. I felt again that warmth, that familiarity I had felt when I had taken it from Mr Olivander in the shop. Really, I wasn't sure I even wanted to tell people about the events of my purchasing it. It seemed oddly personal, like by giving that information away, I would be telling the world some deep secret about myself. I didn't think it would be difficult to heed my uncle's suggestion. Rolling it in my fingers, I looked at it carefully and took in the design. Two-thirds of the wand, the thinner end, was scuffed artfully. It was like it had been painted black, but in some places the paint had been sanded away, leaving the white vein of the yew on show. The bottom third of the rod, where the wand was at its thickest, Warwick had kept the original bark of the branch untouched. It was grey and extremely textured, though polished enough to save me from splinters. The wand was a beautiful object, really. Dark. Mysterious. Glamorous.

Dangerous?

I wasn't sure.

I sighed and rested it gently back into its plush, velvet lined case. I pushed it under my pillow where I had been keeping it since I bought it and picked up one of the books I had bought that same day (or rather ginny had bought for me). Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling. I threw it down onto my bed and crossed the room to grab my chunky pair of headphones which were laying next to Kubo's empty cage. I had let him out for the night to hunt and stretch his wings. The room felt oddly lonely without him and I wished he would return.

Settling back on the bed, I pressed play on a Ludovico Einaudi playlist and found my bookmark in Magical Theory, starting to read where I had left off.

I had been perusing my way through my textbooks ever since I had bought them just over a week ago. I'd finished A History Of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot and One Thousand Magical Herbs And Fungi by Phyllida Spore. My current read had been my favourite so far. I enjoyed history and definitely found it interesting, but Bagshot's book was outdated. It hadn't mentioned anything about the huge wizarding war my uncle had told me about, nor the war between Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald which Harry had briefly mentioned, but not told me anywhere near enough about. In fact, Bagshot didn't seem to cover anything that had happened later than the 19th century. I wondered if my uncle would lend or recommend me a different history book which included all of that. As for the One Thousand Magical Herbs And Fungi, well I had never been much of a herbalist.