| Details for Whimsy and Wandlore |
| Summary: | Ophelia visits the new wandmaker in Hogsmeade. |
| Date: | January 20, 1938 |
| Location: | Hawthorne Wandworks |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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Hawthorne Wandworks, Hogsmeade
Hawthorne Wandworks stands out a bit from the other shops and buildings of Hogsmeade. Its exterior is brighter than those of the shops nearby, favoring bright golds and blues rather than the more muted tones of other shops. A large sign with a stylized H and M hangs over the front doors, and the window display currently shows collections of miniature hot air balloons floating about with bundles of wands in their baskets. The interior of the shop is just as bright, still favoring the same blues and golds. The space is simply arranged and quite small, with an area in the front of the shop large enough to hold no more than a few customers and a small counter running across to separate it from the back. Rows of shelves line the back of the shop, though oddly enough only a few shelves actually hold the familiar long boxes that are so often associated with the packaging of wands.
Hawthorne Wandworks is bubbling with activity. A dozen students enjoying the Hogsmeade Weekend have packed into the small shop, tittering excitedly over the menu of wand enhancements posted behind the counter where Mr. Hawthorne himself is seated. "The puppetry enhancement? Oh, that is a fun one," the wandmaker grins broadly to a Fourth Year boy. Hawthorne withdraws a wand from a drawer, and demonstrates how he makes it dance over the countertop without touching it, as if it were on strings.
Ophelia squeezes her way in, keeping at first to the back. She's wearing her new light blue cloak and has her hair tucked up under a beret, and with wide-eyes busies herself taking in every inch of the little shop. This doesn't take long, given the size of the place. Soon enough her eyes are drawn to the wandmaker himself, as well as his demonstration. She slips forward until she is as close to the counter as the space will allow, her hands unconsciously moving to mirror his motions as she tries to figure out how he's performing the magic.
Hawthorne notes the girl's have movements, and a wry little smirk wrinkles his cheeks. He picks up the wand and offers it to Ophelia. "Here, try it yourself. The magic is in the wand. Just set it down by the base, and hold you hand over it."
"Me?" Ophelia practically squeaks the word, jumps up, and blushes. But she takes the wand, gingerly as though she might break it, and follows his instructions. First she sets the wand down, then brings out her own and holds it over the other, eyes instantly widening again as it works. "But… how do you do it?" She whispers, awestruck.
Hawthorne chuckles, "You won't need your wand, my dear. These are special charms worked into the wand itself. Just something fun, to amaze and delight! Like so!" He draws his own wand, holding it up by the middle. When he gives it a twirl and lets go, it hovers, spinning up to the ceiling, and suddenly jets of coloured light shoot out from both ends, leaving fading trails of colour along the walls. When the wand finally twirls back to his hand, the light explodes into a shower of rainbow sparkles. The light show elicits gasps of awe and clapping from the students in the shop. "That one is my own special enhancement. But I can imbue a wand with one of many others." He gestures to the menu board behind him.
With her flush darkening, Ophelia hurriedly re-pockets her wand and nods. "O-oh, of course." His display quickly dispels her embarrassment, though, and soon enough she's watching in wide-eyed wonder with the rest. Her gaze, though, stays on his wand rather than the effects of light, and remains there even after the display is over. "That's fantastic," She breathes, before quickly blurting out, "But how do you keep it from interfering with the cores?"
Hawthorne continues to twirl his wand in his hand, this time not letting it go, however. He gives her an appraising look. "You've an interest in wandlore, I see. Splendid! Though, I'm afraid my methods are my best kept secret. I have to stay in business, after all."
Ophelia continues to watch the wand. Her shoulders slump a little as he refuses to answer her, but she bites her lip, a determined look entering her eyes, and after a couple of seconds offers, "Yes, I… my parents are scholars. They've sent you letters, my Dad was always especially interested in your work."
Hawthorne lifts his brow curiously. "Oh? Who might your parents be then, young lady?"
"The Summerbees, sir." Ophelia answers, taking a quick glance around at the other students as she says her name. "Mum seems to think that your magic must alter the wands… n-negatively. They argue about it whenever Dad sends you a letter." Blushing a little darker, she adds quietly, "I think they like it, though, arguing about wands."
Hawthorne laughs merrily. "Ah yes! That must make you Ophelia Summerbee. I fear I may have frustrated your poor mother with my reluctance to explain my trade secrets. Dear woman, though. I always did enjoy those letters. Well, this explains your curiosity about wandlore. Are you studying, yourself?"
Ophelia nods, smiling over their shared amusement for her mother's frustration, "When I can, sir. But I don't want to be a scholar, I want to make wands. I… I ask Ollivander every summer for an apprenticeship, but I've been too young until this year. A-and now that… " Well, now that there's a new wandmaker in town, the game is changing.
Hawthorne tilts his head endearingly at Ophelia. "Ahh…I recognize that spark. I saw it in young Garrick Ollivander…and once upon a time in the mirror. The lure of the most elusive and powerful of magical crafts. Do I sense a proposal on the tip of your tongue, Miss Summerbee?"
Ophelia's eyes go as wide as they can. Like Ollivander? Her? Biting her lip, she stares at the man intensely, tries to speak a couple of times, and finally manages to force out, "W-would you… be willing to… to take on an apprentice? Or even an i-intern really?" She's eager enough to offer to sweep the floors, if he ways no, from the look in her eyes.
Hawthorne taps his chin thoughtfully, gazing intently into her eyes. "Hmm…tell me. What quality is unique to wands of hazel?"
"Hazel?" The wheels turn quickly in Ophelia's mind, and she answers almost immediately, "I assume you mean not their tendency to reflect the emotional state of their owner, but rather their ability to detect water?" Its only after she answers that she realizes what the meaning of the question might be, and swallows with sudden nervousness.
Hawthorne claps, laughing. "Well done!" But he's not finished. "What sort of witch or wizard will find an ash wand difficult to manage?"
Ophelia brightens, a smile blooming once more on her face as she soaks up the praise. "A-An… an arrogant one!" Her nervousness halts the second answer, but she is confident, when she gets it out.
Hawthorne nods deeply. "Too true. But all things that can be learned in books. Let us see about your insight, shall we?" He stops twirling his wand in his fingers, and sets it before her on the counter. Without a word, he simply gestures toward it, watching her expectantly.
Ophelia's eyes widen, both in awe for the moment and the size of the impressive wand. Swallowing, she steps forward, one hand going up to hover over the wood without touching it. "Walnut…" She starts to look up for confirmation, but stops herself, turning instead to grin bemusedly at the window display. When she looks back, she glances at the wand once more before looking up, "I think… perhaps I see a part of your secret. Were you a Ravenclaw, sir?"
Hawthorne chuckles silently, nodding an affirmation. "Though Ravenclaws hardly have a monopoly on creativity. But do go on. What else?"
"Well, no. But intelligence, creativity, innovation." Ophelia blushes once more, but shrugs, "These are the things we are all expected to share." She looks down at the wand again, thoughtful, trying to forget her nerves, "This… this is one of the wands I would have offered to Phae, if I had sold her a wand." Glancing up, she quickly explains, "She's… m-my… my girlfriend. She invents things, truly amazing things." Her fingers to up to her pendant, though its hidden beneath her cloak at the moment.
"An inventor, you say? Lovely. Simply lovely to see such verve and passion for your crafts at such a young age." Mr. Hawthorne sighs wistfully. "Ah, the bygone days of youth. I could say I envy you, but I have no regrets. Never let an opportunity pass you by, Miss Summerbee. I life spent chasing your dreams is a life well spent, even if you never achieve them."
Ophelia blinks, then slowly nods. "I… I try not to, sir. I've a place in the company of the Hogwarts Triwizard champion, should the tournament actually be completed. But I only have one dream, really."
"Good for you. Congratulations. But do tell, what is this dream of yours? Though I imagine I already know." He leans forward on the counter with an almost childlike interest.
Ophelia ducks her head shyly, but peeks up before answering. "I want to make wands, sir. To… be a part of the creation of those things which are the most important in our world." Her eyes start to light up as she speaks, her love of her dream taking over all remaining nerves, "To work with all those woods and find the cores that will match, and that will together be that which a witch or wizard reaches for, each time he has a need for magic. That will become a part of them, from the moment they enter the shop as first years, and will help to define how their magic is seen and expressed."
Hawthorne looks positively giddy. "Ho hooo! There's that spark again! Delightful. I'll tell you what, Miss Summerbee. I could use an extra hand around here. There has been a good deal of interest from the student in my enhancements. I hardly have time to perform the necessary spells between taking orders." Indeed, several young boys and girls are clamoring for his attention even now. "If you would like to help out around here during your Hogsmeade Weekends, I'll give you a few tips to set you on your path. As for an apprenticeship…well, we shall see where the future takes us."
Ophelia lights up so brightly she could practically be enchanted. "Oh, really? Do you mean it? Oh /thank you/ sir!" She grips the countertop tightly, as though to keep herself from floating away. "I won't let you down, sir, I promise! When can I start? Today?"
Hawthorne chuckles, holding up his hands. "Such enthusiasm! I like that. But have patience, my dear. Come back tomorrow, early in the morning. I'd like a chance to show you what I need from you before I set you loose. Right now, I need to tend to these fine young folks."
"Yes, yes of course!" Ophelia, still beaming, bobs her head in one of her speed-nods. "I'll be here first thing! Thank you!" She lets the crowd push her back, waving and exclaiming her thanks until she is, eventually, nudged toward the door and back out into the streets. Of course, she takes a few more moments to stare at the window display before floating- that is, walking back to the castle to share her news with Phae and her friends.