"Wands choose the wizard. The wizard must be deemed worthy by the wand to be able to use it properly." I repeated. This activity may be boring to most other people, especially to my mother and uncle, but having my grandpa Garrick Ollivander teach me about wands was a favorite pastime.
"Very good," my grandpa said, "Very good! I believe you can now start helping me run the shop this year, Melody."
"Really? I can?" I asked him excitedly.
"Of course," grandpa said, "After all, you've studied so hard you know how to work with wands better than your own mother… you know their importance and how different each wood and core are. You've even memorized the properties of all the wands I've ever sold. Melody, you have my good memory."
I laughed, "Good thing, too."
My Uncle Gerald walked in and said, "Nah, you don't need the whole memory of what wands have been sold to who."
"Melody, tell him," grandpa said smugly.
"Well, if someone were to lose or break their wand, they would come back to the shop to get a new one. Knowing what their original wand was helps to narrow down the number of wands to test them with." I rattled off.
Gerald snorted, "Good job gramps, you turned your granddaughter into a book of notes."
"Gerald," grandpa said in a warning tone.
I couldn't be mad at Gerald for saying that, I certainly felt like a book. Like a show-off know-it-all, and that was the one uncomfortable part about it. Grandpa wants me to be just like him, though Uncle Gerald and mom certainly detested the idea. I had neutral feelings on the matter.
Wands were an interesting subject to me, but I hadn't expected to be the heir to the wand shop, knowing everything about it. I thought maybe Uncle Gerald or mom, since they were technically the next generation. But, neither one of them wanted it, so I was the next best choice.
Gerald held his hands up defensively, "Just saying, dad."
"Right," grandpa muttered, walking away.
"Your welcome," Gerald said to me.
I smirked, "Yeah, thanks, but I was enjoying being the smart one."
Gerald blew a raspberry at me, "You enjoy being a smart ass, that's what you meant to say to me isn't it?"
"In a way, but you put it so rudely."
Gerald burst out laughing. "Go finish your schoolwork. Orele said you have a lot extra from Professor Snape, and you don't want to hold out on that until July."
"I know, I know, I'll finish it before July anyways, I just wanted to fit in my lessons with grandpa. By July I'll be ready to go to the shop with him." I was really excited about that. Wands were my most favorite subject to learn about; the different woods there were, which cores worked best for certain woods, and, more amazingly, the mind of a wand. Each one had a different personality from the next one, like people, and so it made them living, breathing objects.
"Again, smart ass."
"Gerald, watch your language around my daughter" my mom came into the room.
"Oh, please, you were saying that at Melody's age!"
"Shh!" she hissed at him.
I chuckled and snuck out of there to go upstairs to my room. It was always best to get out of the room before they got their wands out and duelled each other. The way they fought made me glad I didn't have any siblings... my age anyways.
My mom is now six months pregnant. The problem is that the man did a memory charm that backfired on him before they could even officially get married. Now he has no memory of her, me, or even anything about the magical world. He was the best-selling author, Gilderoy Lockhart, who I despised horribly.
Mom still visits the idiot but... she goes in secretly. The hospital has no record of her going there and they didn't put any record of their engagement either.
I reached my room where Bodoujn, my sweet black cat, was sitting on the bed waiting for me. He gave me a look that seemed to say 'get to work' and I chuckled, sitting down next to him to scratch his head.
Taking out all the homework I had, I took a quill and worked on it for about five to six hours before I finished. Homework was easy enough, and I sometimes found that I kept wishing that my teachers would give me much more work for the summer. If I told anyone I felt that way, I would be called crazy.
Oh, well, what else would you call a girl who is borderline between good and bad?