Poppy Pomfrey's Wand

Ollivander recognized an uncommon quality in the shy, unassuming little girl who walked into his shop. At first, she seemed a bit scared to ask for a wand. But there was a hint of determination in her eyes; the wandmaker sensed hidden depths of courage in the child, and she finally stepped forward with a purposeful look. She had strength of character, that was clear.

Poppy Pomfrey was her name. She seemed destined to be a healer, so it was no surprise to the wandmaker when the willow wand picked her. Trusty willow; salix alba caerulea, to be exact. This wand was of a handsome, light color with streaks of slightly darker grain. It was ten inches long, carved in a design of a twining snake intermingled with graceful, carved willow leaves. In appearance, it had the hint of a medical staff about it. 

Willow is a springy but tough wood. This one had a touch more rigidity than most, maybe indicating that the owner had plenty of backbone, if needed. The wand core was of unicorn hair. Ollivander thought—and rightly so—that the owner of this fine wand would always be on the side of good. It was a good match.

Percy Weasley's Wand

Percy's wand was used, as the Weasleys were poor. This constant having to settle for the lesser things in life and make do with hand-me-downs and cast-offs ate at Percy's craw. Was it so bad to aspire to the better things in life?

The used wand was plain and conservative, in appearance, but not inelegant. It was of a straight, narrow, and squarish design, charcoal colored, and highly inflexible. It had a mature, grownup look. He liked that. He had once seen a man in the Ministry—a very important man—carrying one much like it. He liked to think that his wand had once belonged to a V.I.P.—perhaps a Ministry head.

Percy's wand was exactly twelve inches long, which pleased him. He liked things that fit a conventional pattern. Exact. One foot. Period. As a matter of fact, it was the very wand he would have chosen for himself had the wand not chosen him. He only resented it because it was used. And he kind of wished the core was dragon heartstring--not cheap old kelpie hair. Percy felt that shape-shifters were somehow suspect. He felt a little uncomfortable, knowing his wand had such a thing at its core.

He had some trouble learning to use it. Ollivander had warned him that hawthorn wasn't easy to master. But Percy, like his brothers, was smart and capable. He eventually became much better, and the hawthorn wand became truly his. 

Harry Potter Fanfiction

Arthur Weasley's Muggle Treasures

Arthur's Muggle Treasures

Phone Call from Arthur Weasley

Hey, I just bought these two great muggle ecktrick boxes, I just love them. They're absolutely fascinating! Well, let's see, I can't remember—it was all hush-hush, you know, black-market stuff. Beezer, you know, he never wants to hang around in one place for long—afraid he'll be caught, he made me promise... He told me what they are, I forget... 

Let's see, this first one... It's a small box or chest with a little window in front, it has a door on it. There's a cord to plug in, it works by ecktricity. I plugged it into my Gen-O-Rator, but it didn't do anything at first. It kind of looks like that muggle freezer we saw that time, but smaller. I put some ice in, but it melted. I pressed a number (it has these numbers) and the light came on, and the ice melted even FASTER. So then I decided it was an inbukator for chickens, you know, like that one we saw at the muggle fair? With a window where you can see the baby chicks when they hatch. So I put an egg in there and pressed "20" (for 20 days), but it exploded, absolutely exploded—the egg, not the chest—it stinks to high heaven! I can't imagine—oh, wait! I remember, it's a MIRO-cave, that's what Beezer said, a mirocave. He didn't know what it's for. I think I could get it to work if I JUST knew what it was FOR! Do you have any idea...? 

And then he sold me this other box, it's silver and black, it's metal. It plugs in, so it's eckectrick all right, but nothing happens. Well, just a little red light comes on, not enough to see by—can't think what that's for. It has all kind of buttons on the front and little holes in the back. I think it might need extra cords. It's about the size of a lunch tray, and as deep as a coffee cup, about three, four inches high, solid. It plugs in, but it won't open. It doesn't have a door or lid of any kind. It has these covered slots, one has a hole about the size of a small book. The other one just won't open at all. It would just about hold a thin slice of bread, but if it is a drawer or mail slot, it must have a trick to it, I just can't budge it. It clicks and whirs when I mash one button, I think it's trying to open. Most of the printing has worn off. I can read "Magna..." and "..rogressive" and "Ope ...ect." Yes, "ect"—well, I don't know what that actually said, the lettering has worn off. Wait a minute, I wrote down—I can't find—note here somewhere... Wait, it's a CVR, that's what Beezer said, I remember! A CVR. Pretty sure that's it.

Harry Potter Fanfiction

Ghost Wands - Harry Potter Wand Lore

Wand Lore: Speculation on Ghost Wands

The ghosts of Hogwarts were wizards in life and presumably carried wands. Here are my thoughts:

The Bloody Baron was violent, ill-tempered, immoral, often cruel, and a drunkard, but he was not without remorse. His wand was of yew wood, which can be good or evil, but never timid. At its core was thestral hair, which tends toward aggression; some feel it is an omen of misfortune. Certainly, these traits plagued the Bloody Baron. His wand was a strapping, though unlucky, thirteen inches long.

The Fat Friar was a jolly, kindly fellow, with a good heart. He was a healer. The friar carried a wand of alder wood, nine inches long, thick and unyielding. It had a slightly curved, knobby shape like a natural stick. The core was dittany stalk, which has healing properties. Alder is unyielding, but its owner is helpful, considerate, and likeable. The friar proved his ability to do non-verbal spells, transfiguration, and healing with ease, and for good causes, but these advanced spells were his downfall. His magic was misunderstood by muggle church authorities of his day, and he was executed—a shameful event in wizard history, but the friar probably forgave his executioners.

In life, the Grey Lady carried a willow wand, a match for the insecure personality of great potential. Her wand was eight-and-a-half inches long and flexible. Its core was a feather from a sphinx's wing. Helena Ravenclaw (the Grey Lady) was intelligent, talented, and ambitious. She fell into the temptation of rivaling her beautiful, witty mother, betraying her by stealing the diadem, which proved useless in the hands of one who wanted it for personal gains. Helena's weakness was a sign of basic insecurity and was most likely a mistake of youthful vanity, which she might have outgrown in time, had she lived. In death the Grey Lady proved to be remorseful and humble. She was also highly moral.

Nearly Headless Nick carried a spruce wand, eleven inches long, inflexible, with a core of curupira hair (unstable—a core for powerful yet unpredictable wizards). Nick never quite mastered his wand; it seems to have mastered him. Spruce requires a firm hand—best for a bold spell caster with a sense of humor, ill-matched with cautious natures, and dangerous in fumbling fingers. Nick wanted to be brave, but maybe he was less than perfectly brave. Spruce has its own ideas about what magic it ought to be called upon to produce, which explains how it turned a lady's teeth into tusks. In time, Nick might have come to master his quirky wand. Spruce can be a superb helper, intensely loyal to its owner and capable of producing flamboyant and dramatic effects, which would suit Nick.

dkp

Harry Potter Fanfiction

Ghost Wands

Ansuz

Ansuz

Ancient Rune: Ansuz

My rune is Ansuz. It chose me. At first I was perplexed: why, of all runes, this ancient god? I expected a leaf, a deer, the sky--some symbol of nature--not this.

Then I began to read, and was touched: "god-breathed," it says; "the passing of breath from parent to child." Life, from one generation to the next. It is a beautiful, poignant thought. It immediately brought to my mind the image of Lily Potter giving her life so that her son could continue to live and breathe. But along with the breath of life, it is essential to pass ideas, thoughts, memories, and knowledge. 

This is the power of the Ansuz rune. It symbolizes language and creativity. I thought of Robert Frost's poem, The Tuft of Flowers. I "feel a spirit kindred to my own." I leave my mark. Another, finding it, may be inspired to leave a mark of their own. Language is a gift of insight from God. The Ansuz rune symbolizes the passage of ideas to all mankind. Ansuz traits encompass poetry, creativity, conscious thought, and inspiration. We find meaning in our universe. We create symbols and names, to share our insights. These "Ansuz" personality traits immediately resonated with me. This is surely my rune.

Interestingly, "action" is beyond the energy of Ansuz, which only inspires. A wise man once told me I think too much. "Just paint!" he said. I do tend to think and think and think. (It's a Ravenclaw thing.) Sometimes, this is good, but it can lead to procrastination--a trait I have mastered all too well. This is a blind spot for the Ansuz personality: over-conceptualization, faith in labels, casting aside essence. We must use language to further human thought, not to limit it. I was reminded of this Bible verse: “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1) To label the visible and knowable, while casting aside "things not seen" is a trap for the Ansuz personality. 

 

Ansuz: Inspire, create, communicate. 

Mossy Cave: A New Hide-Out for the Marauders

A New Hide-Out For The Marauders

    Mossy Cave Photo

The Marauders have found a wonderful moss-covered cave to use as a new hideout. It has a waterfall and fresh stream inside for drinking water and a labyrinth of branches to explore or hide in. They can easily access it by crossing a dead tree that has fallen across a creek and then climbing a narrow, winding, natural path that leads to the entrance. They have cast several clever charms upon it to keep intruders out: a charm that makes brush and weeds seem like briars and thistle; a charm that emits scary growls and ghostly moans as anyone approaches the area; a charm that obscures the entrance, making it look like solid rock; a fake entrance to a shallow cave down the path; and a charmed path that makes intruders unsure of their footing and crumbles under their feet, producing a miniature landslide, if they get too near the cave.

My Animagus

My own animagus would be a raven or hawk. I could soar above to see the landscape for miles around, find new places to explore, see intruders, and warn the others. I could swoop down close and perch on the back of Moony, Padfoot, or Prongs when I wanted to rest or communicate. I could nip Wormtail just for the heck of it.

I think of the red fox would also be a good animagus for a marauder: handsome, intelligent, quick-witted, and brilliant at eluding pursuers.

My original composition, written for Azkaban Escapees, a Facebook group. Photo swiped from Google images. 

Dinky, My Little House Elf

Dinky the House Elf

  Dinky: Art by D.K.Pritchett, blog owner

My mother was given the elf, Dinky, upon her marriage to my father. When Mother died, she left Dinky to me. I call her "Dink." Dink has curly, dark chestnut hair, big, blue eyes, and a long, pointy nose, which she pinches in hopes of making it petite. She wears a plain white-linen toga--rather amazingly white, because my grandmother long ago sprayed it with her secret "Freshina" potion. 

       My mother had hopes of expanding Dink's wardrobe to include some pretty chintz or toile, but the poor creature was mortified and thought she was being turned out of our house. It was with great difficulty that Mother convinced the poor little soul that Raven's Rest would always be her home. We think she finally feels secure, though her forever frowny forehead says otherwise, as if she has waited these decades for the other shoe to drop. Upon my mother's death, I pressed upon Dink a plain little pair of natural pearl earrings, which she had always admired. She was aghast, until I showed her pictures of muggle cattle with ear tags and of Charlie Weasley's marked dragons. I explained that it was a sign of my ownership, like a brand. She accepted that story and is quite proud to be so lovingly stamped as "owned."

Harry Potter Fan Fiction. 

Originally written for Azkaban Escapees, a Facebook group. In my original story and paper sketch, Dinky's nose was tiny. When I created the digital version, I made it big.