Post by zack on Feb 28, 2007 21:03:47 GMT -5
Nervously Zack stepped over the threshold into the old wand shop; it had been deserted years ago when the own had gone missing but the door was unlocked, either by vandals or it had just never been locked up. He closed the door carefully behind him. With the windows bored and the door shut he had to strain his eyes to see in the dim light. The shelves, counter, and walls were bare but people had ventured in before him, he could tell by the remains of footprints set in the dust.
He had gone shopping for a wand yesterday, it seemed like he had tried the entire store before he had finally given up. Not one wand seemed to fit him, they all felt weak and lifeless in his hand, like nothing more than fancy twigs radiating a small amount of magic. He had become very frustrated and excused himself from the store, thinking that if he saw another wand he would scream.
This had once been a very magical place, he closed his eyes and inhaled the musty smell, imagining. He had heard stories of what this store was like when Mr. Ollivandier sold his wands here from his parents. Drawing on those stories now he could almost see what it was like. After several moments of just standing there trying to imagine what it was like he was compelled by a sudden urge to explore.
Stepping softly, as if not to disturb ancient memories, he slipped behind the counter and began to wander through the rows and rows of empty shelves. A small shiver went down his spine as he walked. Soon he reached the farthest corner of the store where several tables sat and a chest of draws, which proved empty after examination. As he turned to leave something…out of place, caught his eyes; a sharp edge under the drawers. He dropped to his knees and looked under, it was a little box about twelve inches long.
Curiously he picked it up and gently pried off the top, inside lay a wand. The main part of it was a swirly dark red, rosewood, he guessed, and the handle was a much lighter tan-ish red. But the most interesting thing about it was the handle was carved with words in no particular pattern or order. The only words he could make out were veneficusaum and dicionis, he had no idea what they meant but they sounded latin.
Carefully he drew the wand from its box, something about it just felt right in his hand. Where other wands were weak and awkward this one was strong and pulsed with magical power. He turned it over in his hand a few times and swished it this way and that, it was so perfect.
He had just began tracing the words with his fingers when he heard footsteps. Quickly he put it back in its box and shoved the box into an inner pocket of his robe. He stood up and waited as the footsteps came closer and closer.
He had gone shopping for a wand yesterday, it seemed like he had tried the entire store before he had finally given up. Not one wand seemed to fit him, they all felt weak and lifeless in his hand, like nothing more than fancy twigs radiating a small amount of magic. He had become very frustrated and excused himself from the store, thinking that if he saw another wand he would scream.
This had once been a very magical place, he closed his eyes and inhaled the musty smell, imagining. He had heard stories of what this store was like when Mr. Ollivandier sold his wands here from his parents. Drawing on those stories now he could almost see what it was like. After several moments of just standing there trying to imagine what it was like he was compelled by a sudden urge to explore.
Stepping softly, as if not to disturb ancient memories, he slipped behind the counter and began to wander through the rows and rows of empty shelves. A small shiver went down his spine as he walked. Soon he reached the farthest corner of the store where several tables sat and a chest of draws, which proved empty after examination. As he turned to leave something…out of place, caught his eyes; a sharp edge under the drawers. He dropped to his knees and looked under, it was a little box about twelve inches long.
Curiously he picked it up and gently pried off the top, inside lay a wand. The main part of it was a swirly dark red, rosewood, he guessed, and the handle was a much lighter tan-ish red. But the most interesting thing about it was the handle was carved with words in no particular pattern or order. The only words he could make out were veneficusaum and dicionis, he had no idea what they meant but they sounded latin.
Carefully he drew the wand from its box, something about it just felt right in his hand. Where other wands were weak and awkward this one was strong and pulsed with magical power. He turned it over in his hand a few times and swished it this way and that, it was so perfect.
He had just began tracing the words with his fingers when he heard footsteps. Quickly he put it back in its box and shoved the box into an inner pocket of his robe. He stood up and waited as the footsteps came closer and closer.