"So I broke the Elder Wand in half, and threw it into the lake." Old Man Potter finished.
"Why didn't you keep it? It's the most powerful wand in the universe!" I questioned.
"That's exactly why. No one deserves that kind of power." he explained.
Old Man Potter is a rather, colorful man. He lives in the mental hospital my mom works at. My mom showed me his records. Throughout his childhood, Mr. Potter lived with dreadful people. He was tortured to the point that he fabricated a world of magic as an escape from his awful life.
"So you're saying that there are sticks that shoot out magic." I confirmed skeptically.
"Wands that cast spells, yes. You don't believe me?"
"No, sorry." I answered truthfully.
Mr. Potter rocked slowly in his rocking chair, thinking. Finally, he hoisted himself up and walked to his drawer. He opened it, and pulled out an ornate wand. Dusting it off, he mumbled, "Hope this still works. LeviOsa, right Hermione?" He turned to his quill. Pointing his wand at the quill, he announced, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
I couldn't believe my eyes. The quill drifted up about a foot upward. Mr. Potter turned to me with a smirk.
"Still don't believe me?"
He walked to his closet, and with great difficulty, slid it open.
"A broom?"
He set it on the floor next to me.
"Say 'up!'."
"Up?"
The broom ascended to my hand.
"I must take points off for execution, but the broom did rise. Well done. Want to learn more?"
"Yes!"