(1938-02-02) Can A Wand Have A Memory?
Details for Can A Wand Have A Memory?
Summary: Seeking to better answer Gabrielle's unusual question, Ophelia goes to her employer and new mentor, Mr. Hawthorne.
Date: February 2, 1938
Location: Hawthorne Wandworks
Related: Immediately follows Divining the Wand

It wasn't long ago, not even an hour, that Ophelia left Hawthorne Wandworks for the night with the intent of finding Hephaesta and heading back to the castle. And yet, when she should already be long gone, she pushes her way back through the door of the shop and makes her way to the counter. She's looking far different than she had when she left, a faraway, deeply thoughtful look on her face, her hair is windblown and falling out of its braid, and the hat she had tucked it up into has somehow dissapeared.

"Just closing up," comes a voice from the supply room. A moment later, the short, round-faced Oran Hawthorne appears, his nose buried in an open book as she moves to the counter. Only when he sets the book down does he look up and blink in surprise. "Oh! Miss Summerbee, back so soon? Did you forget something?"

Ophelia starts to smile, then to wave, but each action stops short of the real thing. Then, with a small sigh, she moves up to lean against the counter. First she looks down at her hands, then up at him, "No, sir. I… hoped I might ask you a question."

Hawthorne chuckles, going about his nightly routine of tidying up behind the counter. "Ho ho, the Ravenclaw mind at work, ever honing the edge of curiosity. What is it today, Summerbee? Do you want to know the secret properties of the bamboo wandwood trees of Okinawa? Perhaps the benefits of a gryphon-tendon core? Or are you going to once again try to wrest from me the secrets of my wand enhancements?" He smirks impishly over his shoulder as he straightens a stack of wand boxes.

Ophelia manages a small grin, but its faint, her shock of the moments preceding this visit sitll too fresh in her mind. "No sir. Can… can a wand have a memory?" She frowns at her hands again, "I mean, not just the usual memories of their witches and wizards or their spells. But a memory of an event?"

Hawthorne pauses, and turns, blinking repeatedly. "What?" He approaches the counter, his work forgotten. "What an interesting question. Why do you ask, my dear?"

Ophelia swallows at Hawthorne's reaction, and stands a little straighter to answer. "My… my friend asked me. Her mother's wand, it was in a fire, I think its how she died. And something happened, something… really bad, I think. M-my friend, she's good at divination, and she tried to see something about her mum just now… and after, she asked me, can wands have memories?"

Something grave comes over Mr. Hawthorne's features. "Oh dear…oh dear, oh dear. That poor girl. Well…as you know, wands can remember how they are used. But this does extend to more than just spellwork. There is evidence to suggest that a wand remembers everything that it does. Tell me, are you familiar with the phenomenon known as Priori Incantatem?"

Ophelia frowns, tilting her head as she scans mentally through her years of reading. "Priori… that's to do with two wands with the same core? And what happens when they duel one another?" She looks up to search his expression, considering the possible connections between these concepts.

Hawthorne nods, smiling softly. "Very good, Summerbee. There are other circumstances that can produce Priori Incantatem, but that is one. In some instances, witnesses to such an event have reported seeing…well, apparitions of events that the wand or wands have taken part in. In that sense, if the stories are to be believed, a wand can have a memory. But this is a truly rare phenomenon. What did your friend see in her divination?"

Ophelia lets a tiny proud grin slip free. She listens carefully, eyes widening a little, as he explains further, then slowly shakes her head. "She didn't say much, before the woman in the caravan took her inside. She drew a symbol on the wall though, while, um… in the trance? And I think she said her mum was drawing it in the vision she saw."

Hawthorne furrows his brow. "Trance? You say she had a vision? That is well beyond mere divination, my dear. Is this a common occurance for her?" He is already moving to fetch his coat from the wall hook, slipping it on and walking toward the door.

Ophelia nods, yes a trance, then shakes her head. "I… I don't think so. I know she's brilliant at divination, but she seemed rather shaken up afterwards. And the lady had to tell her what had happened. So I don't think its ever happened before." She looks down at her hands again, but her head pops up when she realizes where he's going, and she hurries to follow.

Hawthorne slaps a floppy hat on his head, beckoning her. "Come along, Summerbee! I must see this symbol. On the wall, you say? What wall?" He doesn't wait for an answer before he is out the door and on the street.

Ophelia scurries after Hawthorne, not needing to be asked twice. "On the gypsy caravan." She explains, "The lady might have removed it by now, but she had me copy it down, I gave the sketch to her before coming here." She keeps pace easily beside him, pointing once they are outside toward the caravan.

Hawthorne wastes no time getting there, his short legs moving at a breakneck walking speed. He hurries along to the caravan, circling it until the carves image comes into view. Indeed, it hasn't yet been removed. "Keep quiet, Summerbee. I've heard rumours about this gypsy woman, and it would be best not to tempt fate by upsetting her with our trespass." He stares at the 'drawing', open-mouthed, eyes searching every detail of it.

Ophelia has to hurry, after a bit, to keep up. And indeed, she starts to say something, but Hawthorne's words of caution stop her short. Clamping her lips together, she nods and folds her hands in front of herself, keeping still so as to make as little noise as possible. Her eyes are drawn to the symbol again, after a bit, and soon enough she's fidgeting, though quietly for now.

"Fascinating," Hawthorne breathes out in a long sigh. As quickly as he arrived, he starts back toward the Wandworks, beckoning Ophelia along again. "Did she say anything about this? What it means?"

Ophelia turns carefully to follow Hawthorne back, shaking her head. "Not really. I'll ask her more about it later, but she's not… the most open of people. She did say she was doing the divination because one of the other students had implied that her mother was a dark witch, and she wanted to prove her wrong. Only, she said she couldn't tell in her vision if her mother was trying to stop the dark wizards or help them."

Hawthorne walks at more of a natural pace this time. "Hm…yes, well, the Dark Arts are, by their very nature, difficult to perceive. Divination is a means of reading the patterns of the universe, but Dark magic violates the natural order, defying those patterns. It isn't surprising that the omens were unclear. Who is this girl, anyhow?"

Ophelia walks quietly at first, listening, nodding a little at Hawthorne's words. "Gabrielle Evans." She murmurs after a bit. "She'd been using her mother's wand since she came to school, and onluy just recently got her own. But she's been hurting herself, practicing too hard. And after this… she'll probably work even harder." Frowning, she shakes her head.

Hawthorne frowns. "Hurting herself? Ah yes…you said the wand was in a fire. Damaged, no doubt. Goodness, what was she thinking, using such a thing? A defective wand is dangerous to its wielder." He shakes his head, tut-tutting. "Still, no doubt it is precious to her, having belonged to her mother."

Ophelia nods. "It was, she protects it fiercely. As she is her mother's memory." She starts to say something else, but stops herself, buting her lip and looking down at the ground again.

Hawthorne opens the door to let Ophelia into the Wandworks when they return. "What is it, Miss Summerbee? You needn't be embarrassed with me. If your friend is having trouble with her wand, I would like to think that you came to the right person."

Ophelia glances up, torn, and slips through the door. She returns quickly to her spot at the counter. "No, no its not that. I just… I promised I wouldn't… " Her frowns deepens. "Well, I think I just promised not to do anything to make her loose her mother's wand. I'd… I'd asked if I could bring it to you, you see. But she was so afraid that it would be broken, or taken from her."

Hawthorne frowns, shutting and locking the door before tapping his "Open for Business" sign with his wand, turning it into a "Closed, Come Back Soon" sign. "Taken? I'm not a thief. Goodness me. I would only wish to inspect her wand. I'm assuming that this is the wand she was asking about? Whether it can have memories? No doubt the girl wants to know if the wand remembers her mother. Poor thing."

Ophelia nods. "I told her that, I couldn't imagine someone wanting to break her mother's wand. But she was so afraid. And now this. She must be even more afraid." Sighing, she wrapps her arms around her waist and looks up at Hawthorne, the look in her eyes that of a lost teenagers all over the globe. "I just don't know how I can help her."

Hawthorne sighs, taking a seat on his stool behind the counter. "I wish I had a good answer for you. She has no reason to trust me, save my expertise. Perhaps she'll come around."

"Ophelia nods. "I'll talk to her again, after she speaks with the Gypsy woman. Tell her what you said, maybe it will help." She offers a small smile, glances to the window, then back again, "Thank you."

Hawthorne nods distractedly. "Yes, yes of course. What am I here for, if not precisely this sort of thing?" He chuckles weakly. "Thank you, Miss Summerbee. You did the right thing in coming to me. I shall look more deeply into this matter of wand memory. Perhaps there is something that my own memory is faltering in."

Heartened by the compliment, Ophelia smiles a little more brightly. "If you think so." Though she has her doubts about him forgetting anything. Wandmakers are perfect, afterall. Aren't they? "But… I should get back to the castle, and find Phae. She's probably wondering what happened to me." Pushing away from the counter, she makes herself ready to leave.

Hawthorne doesn't respond, already lost in though with his chin against his hand, and his brow furrowed in concern.

Ophelia looks back from the door, nods, and leaves Hawthorne to think as she steps quietly back outside. This time, she's determined to make it back to the castle! Without any sule-breaking, sanity-scaring magic!

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