1992-19 august
"Are we all here? Good, remember to go straight to Gringotts, we don't need to crowd Tom's pub, the poor man has his hands full in this moth already." Molly Weasley fussed over his family once more. Ron rolled his eyes and went first, unwilling to explain that waiting until the last week of august to make their Hogwarts shopping was, like always, a stupid plan.
He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames. With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose high, Ron then stepped right into it, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished in the blaze.
It felt as though he was being sucked down a giant drain. He seemedto be spun very fast, the fire roaring in his ears was deafening. Hedutifully kept his eyes open, looking through the stream of fireplaces snatching glimpses of the rooms beyond, as soon as he recognized the gloomy looking inside of the Leaky Cauldron, he stepped out, quickly clearing the way for the next one who would soon floo through. He had always wondered how exactly flooing worked. What if two people wanted to go to the same place at the same time?
It still made sense that shouting 'Diagon Alley' one would floo through all the open fireplaces of the Alley, after all, many shops had their fireplace ready for customers. But wouldn't it be better finding a way to floodirectly into the place you wanted? It couldn't be so difficult could it? Maybe he could research floo powder and systems once he was back at Hogwarts.
Ron walked into Diagon Alley looking around for Harry and Hermione. Hedwig had been kind enough to deliver his mail to both his friends during her return trips to Prived Drive. He could have used Errol, but then it would have to let his parents know who he was exchanging letters with, and really it wasn't worth the hassle. However they agreed on meeting, so that they could spend some time together before school.
Ron obviously had told nothing of his friends to his family, nor had his parents asked. Not only dad would probably insist to ask his muggleborn friend about her everyday life, but his mum would go into a fit if she were to know that he was writing to a Slytherin, Boy Who Lived or not. That is without even considering the Harry Potter #1 fangirl Ginevra Weasley. He thought with a smirk: Maybe I should introduce them. Oh, that would be a sight to see.
Well, the twins probably knew about his frienships, they had hardly been discrete at Hogwarts, but if there was one thing that George and Fred both appreciated, was keeping secrets from their mother. So all was well.
He saw both his friends sitting on Gringotts steps. The marble steps were extremely large, so, while their seating arrangements certainly rose more than a few eyebrows, they weren't in any way disturbing the flow of people coming from and going to the bank. Not that the goblins would have allowed it otherwise.
He quickly ran over, knowing that his family would soon join him. "Hello guys!" and before they could answer, he went on "My family is still flooing over, and for wathever reason we all must go together at the vault. Can we meet right after? We usually have an hour or two of free time before meeting up somewhere."
"Well, hello to you too, Ronald." Sniffed Hermione. "And I'll have you know, my parents liked the idea of meeting your family."
Harry simply shrugged, he didn't care one way or another. But from what Ron had been able to grasp, he knew something about not wanting your family around. That was strange, but it was somewhat a taboo topic among them, along with the Mirror of Erised.
Noticing that Hermione was miffed by the ravenclaw's request, Harry took the situation in hand.
"Well, I know that Fortesque makes the most extraordinary ice cream in the world, and I wanted to grab a cone. Come on Hermione, I'll treat you. We'll see you there Ron. Let's go warn your parents 'Mione." And rose from his seated position
"How did you call me? How dare you!" Incensed, the gryffindor completely forgot about Ron, choosing to chase her slytherin friend, who had quickly gone back into Gringotts. Probably for a tongue lashing of some kind.
"Thanks mate." the ravenclaw told to himself. "How the hell did he think about "Mione? It's hilarious." he chuckled.
Soon after all the Weasleys were once again together, and they marched into Gringotts. Walking through the Main Hall, Ron spotted Harry walking away from a couple of muggles, Hermione hot on his heels. He smirked, the slytheriness of his friend came in handy from time to time.
The Weasleys were led to their underground vaults by a Gringotts goblin. The vaults were reached by means of small, goblin-driven carts that sped along miniature train tracks through the bank's underground tunnels. Ron tried to enjoy the breakneck journey down to their vault. It was like playing quidditch but without the controlthat made it an enjoyable experience.
Not a moment too soon they had reached their vault. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside, and just one gold Galleon, and his mother felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag.
Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Ron's mother and Ginny were going to a second hand robe shop.
"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in two hours to buy your schoolbooks," said Molly, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins' retreating backs.
Ron strolled off along the winding, cobbled street, looking for the ice cream stand Harry had talked about.
He found them both sitting in the bright sunshine outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, and Harry raised his head from his sundae to smile at his ravenclaw friend.
Ron sat down with an happy grin next to Hermione, who had been too focused on her ice cream to notice him until that moment.
Immediately, her eyes narrowed. But surprisingly, her sudden frown slowly disappeared, and after a glance to Harry, her shoulders seemed to lose some of ther stiffness.
"Do I want to know what Harry told you?" he asked with a sigh, taking in the sight of the bright coloured umbrellas floating above their heads.
"Unlikely." Harry replied quickly. "So, I was just telling to Hermione about my brilliant holidays. You see, I told my uncle that if I managed to finish homework soon enough, I could leave two whole weeks before, and that if I played my cards right, I could leave their house as soon as I turn seventeen. So I spent the last weeks at the Leaky Cauldron and roaming Diagon Alley! It's been wonderful!"
Hermione lips formed a thin line at that. She was probably conflicted between being proud about his drive in completing homework, horrified at the thought of having to lie to be able to do it, and saddened by the prospect of preferring to be alone instead that with your family.
Ron congratulated his friend. "I imagine that they didn't know that we become of age at seventeen." the ravenclaw grinned.
The slytherin tilted the sundae in his direction, mocking a toast of salute.
"It's been... freedom. I've been able to get up whenever I wanted or eat whatever I fancied. I even ventured into muggle London, but I prefer it on this side. People watching is wonderful here! Funny little witches from the country, up for a day's shopping; venerable-looking wizards arguing over the latest article in Transfiguration Today; wild-looking warlocks; raucous dwarfs; and three times a week, what looked suspiciously like a hag, who ordered a plate of raw liver from behind a thick woolen balaclava. Tom knows his way around food, let me tell you, so breakfasts and dinners there, while I spent the days exploring the shops and eating under the brightly colored umbrellas outside cafes, where people were showing one another their purchases. What is a lunascope, by the way? Oh, and a moke? I've asked Hagrid, but I'm still waiting for his letter. Oh, and I've been able to sit in the bright sunshine outside, right here for example, to complete my remaining homework, I even bought a couple of books, and yes Hermione I'll lend them to you, but one is about quidditch, the other was more like a thick brochure about jobs in the wizarding world."
It was rare to see Harry so outspoken. Well, he was more or less vomiting words over words, but he looked awed by the magic around them, joyful, and deeply relaxed. Ron could only be happy for him.
Hermionehad perked hearing about jobs: "Jobs! Oh that's interesting! Did you know that we need to choose our electives for our third year in june? Did the brochure name what is needed for each job?" She quickly asked.
"Well" Ron spoke,grabbing the attention of both "You don't have to memorize everything now, Hermione, besides we all now that you'll be taking twelwe OWLs."
Noticing her pleading face, the ravenclaw exchanged an exasperated look with Harry, giving up. "Well... I can tell you a bit about works in the magic world, stuff that more or less everyone knows? So Harry can finish his sundae in peace." He owed him for dragging away their gryffindor friend from Gringotts anyway. And seeing the witch nodding happily, he sighed.
"Well, Curse-Breaking is a job in which a witch or a wizard removes, counters or breaks curses placed on objects or places for a living. Whilst Curse-Breakers could work for the Ministry of Magic, removing curses, hexes and jinxes from illegally bewitched objects, Bill, my eldest brother is one, and works for Gringotts. He's exploring ruins in Egypt. It's for the adventurous, O.W.L.s in Arithmancy and Runes is required, and N.E.W.T.s Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms would be necessary." Seeing that Hermione was sitting on the edge of her chair, and Harry looked like he was enjoying just relaxing and looking at him like he was expecting the lesson to continue, he rolled his eyes and went on.
"Charlie works with dragons, as you remember. So NEWT in Care of Magical Creatures is a must. From what I understand they give you a different role based on your skill. There are Dragon Feeders, Dragon Tamers, even if they don't tame anybody, they just keep the dragons in the reserves. Well, if you're good at wards you can look over the ones that keep hidden the dragon reserves. But those usually work on separate contracts." Noticing the confused frown on his friend faces, Ron choose to elaborate: "I mean that a Ward Master can be contracted separatedly, as well as an Enchanter, since you need special chains to keep dragon in places. Rune Masters as well. But this last three jobs are... how do I explain it? Well people that do their own thing and jump from contract to request, they work independently."
"Like they're freelance?" asked Hermione.
"Well, no, they don't work for free, how does it make any sense?" Ron replied, confused. Both of his friends actually snorted at that: "It's the muggle expression for those who work independently." explained Harry.
"Oh, that's strange. Well, anyway, in the same way you can work as an Alchemist, a Potion Master, or an Arithmancer. Publishing your works obviously helps getting word of your skill around. There are also artists that produce enchanted portraits, so you can leave behind something to counsel the future generations once you're dead. Broom Maker, and it's like being an Enchanter, only that you work for a company. Wand makers, obviously, but you need to get apprenticed to one, and they usually keep the secrets of their craft into the family, you know. You can take up professional dueling. Obviously you can work for the Daily Prophet, or Hogwarts, or the Ministry, or the ICW. I mean, there are loads of different jobs in every government, from testing hopefuls for their apparition license to secretary. Or you can work as executioner for dangerous magical creatures, or even a breeder. There you need only a NEWT in Care of Magical Creatures. But in our ministry is really about knowing someone if you want to climb high."
Hermione interrupted him, outraged: "What do you mean 'knowing soneone'? Does it mean that I can't work there because I'm a muggleborn!?"
Ron shook his head, his eyebrows rising into his forehead, and Harry frowned at Hermione spot on question.
"No, no... well, maybe? I mean, if you are the head of the DMLE results are what counts, but you are not going to entrust an high profile job to someone you do not trust. And to trust someone you, and the whole ministry, need either to see your commitment or someone who has shown such a commitment to vouch for you. That is what 'knowing someone means'." Ron explained, "Well, that is also how so many death eaters are out of Azkaban."
At the horrified expressions on their faces he choose to elaborate, once again.
"Our world was in pieces after the war, so the ministry had to choose between rebuilding fast or keep being ruthless and unyelding. So when the repentant death eaters claimed that they were under the... imperious, or coerced into service, and dropped a river of galleons into the ministry's coffers."
His tone had lowered, and by the end of his speech he was whispering. It wasn't exact a polite topic of conversation.
"How can you be ruthless while pursuing death eathers?" asked Harry pointedly.
Ron shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.
"Well, I don't know the details, but Crouch passed a law that authorized aurors to use unforgivables. But things... kinda got out of hand, and you only needed to be suspected of being a death eather to be hunted down, and Crouch authorized several blitz of the hit wizards without the proper procedures... Long story short, a lot of people died, on both sides, and the ministry went overboard."
"I haven't read anything about this anywhere. Not in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century ..." Hermione frowned heavily.
Harry had finished his sundae and his smile and allof air had been forgotten. He was sitting foward, his hands crossed in fron of his chin, and his eyes were shining with a focus Ron had never seen before.
"It's not something that anyone likes to talk or even think about. It's stuff that everyone knows, the version I gave you has a lot of speculation in it, but is likely the more realistic one."
"How do you know about it then? If it's not on books or you don't talk about it." Hermione logically pointed out. Harry's gaze did not leave room for evasion.
"How did you learn to walk on your feet instead of your hands? I picked it up. Comments and snippets, old articles read in a new perspective... It's a lot of stuff. And really, really, not something to talk about. A lot of people died on both sides. Harry, your parents. My mother lost both her brothers, the Bones are left down to two, the Blacks only have the infamous Sirius left, and he's in Azkaban, the Lestranges are all there, Crouch is the last of his family, the Rosier are gone from Britain. Please let's change topic."
"Is this a stupid thing like saying the name Voldemort out loud?" Harry asked, unrelenting.
Ron flinched at the name, and even Hermione looked uncomfortable. The ravenclaw pressed his palms into his orbits. "It's not your fault, you didn't grow up here. But, calling stupid something we've been taught for our whole life, to our faces, is not something that will make you any friends."
Harry blushed, but didn't move away his eyes, while Hermione started biting her lower lip.
"It's just another of the things nobody writes, talks or likes to think about isn't it?" the gryffindor tried to mediate between the two.
Ron shot her a grateful smile, before looking once more to Harry: "You have to understand. During the war, nobody knew who was fighting for whom, or something like that. The people who used that name openly were either immediately murdered on the streets or went back home only to find the dark mark over it and all their loved ones dead inside. Every time you say that name, you bring up the same feeling of fear. Our generation picked it up from our parents, in the same way we learned to not eat snot or piss in the sink of the kitchen. It's just not done."
The talk died down after that, and they sat quietly for a while, the mood stayed gloom. And everybody was thinking about what had jyst been said.
After a while, Herry seemed to nod to himself. "Sorry Ron, I wasn't calling you stupid or anything... it's just, difficult, you know? Nobody explain stuff like this to me or Hermione."
Said witch reached over and squeezed the ravenclaw shoulder. She was uncharacteristically silent.
"Like judas of old,
you lie and decieve.
A world war can be won,
you want me to believe."
The young witch half whispered half sung, mostly to herself.
Ron smiled a bit, the tension that had conquered his shoulders leaving for a bit.
"But I see through your eyes,
and I see through your brain
like I see through the water,
that runs down my drain."
Ron completed the lyrics.
At her surprised expression, he explained: "Near Ottery's library there's a little music store, vinyl only, and you can listen to the disks to check if they are scratched. I read about Carter's case, from there to Hurricane and the rest of Dylan the step had been short, besides, Mandy's plays the guitar and once she had talked about it."
Ron stopped looking into Hermione's brown eyes to gaze into the deep green of Harry's. "Nothing to apologize for, you're right, nobody will tell you about theese things. But you should know, even if it's not really... comfortable. Just... enough for today, ok?"
They both nodded and all together rose from their seats, unanimously choosing to spend the free time they still had left roaming through Diagon Alley.
Hermione dragged them off to buy ink and parchment next door, Harry showed them a few sights here and there, telling them stuff that he had seen happening during his holiday.
In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they met Fred, George,and Lee Jordan, who were stocking up on Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No Heat Fireworks, and in a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and deeply boring book called Prefects Who Gained Power. Ron steered his two friends clear of his siblings in both cases.
They headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:
GILDEROY LOCKHART
will be signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME
today 12:30 P.m. to 4:30 P.m.
"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"
"And doesn't it sound at tiny bit suspicious? I mean, McGonagall is bloody good, but we don't have to buy five books for her each year do we?" Ron questioned, only to be ignored by the gryffindor witch, but gaining an appreciative snort from Harry.
The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Molly's age. An harrassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying: "Calmly, please, ladies ... Don't push, there ... mind the books, now..."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. Ron and Hermione each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2, since Harry had done his shopping a week before, and sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.
Arthur had strung up a conversation with Hermione's parents on his own. Ron was relieved that he didn't have to play any part in the presentation or whatever.
"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley, spotting the last members of her family. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute ..."
Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.
A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with very blinding flash.
Ron tugged Harry and Hermione sleeves, and when they glanced at him questioningly, he quickly whispered: "I need to do something outside, can you cover me?" the urgent tone made both his friends nod immediately, even if the ravenclaw knew that he would have to tell them everything as soon as possible. Hermione disliked secrets she wasn't a part of. Well, she disliked not knowing stuff of any kind, so it made sense.
Ron quickly made his way out from the shop, it wasn't like he had saved up all those galleons only to buy some books. He crossed the road and walked for a couple of minutes.
The shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as he stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a feel of importance that Ron could't really grasp. The ravenclaw felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions which had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in there seemed to tingle with some secret magic. He felt almost like he was underwater, but not quite, like he had corked ears due to the shift in pressure, but it wasn't it. He raised his hand expecting to feel some kind of resistance but it moved normally trough the air.
"Good afternoon." said a soft voice, and Ron jumped in fright.
An old man was standing before him, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.
"Hello" said Ron awkwardly.
"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I had wondered, when I didn't see you the last summer. After all, I've provided your whole family with a wand. Which is your wand arm?"
"Uh, I learned to write with my right, but then I learned to use my left hand too, and I started doing origami this summer since having nimble fingers can help in a lot of careers, so I don't know how to answer, sir." said Ron.
"Hold out your left arm, then. Closer to the heart. That's it." He measured the Weasley from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said: "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Weasley. I use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons, even if I have in store several wands crafted by members of my family, some of those with more... esoteric cores. I remember Charlie Weasley's wand. I am sure you have great difficulties in transfiguring, don't you? No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
He took a breath, starting to rummaging among the dusty shelves "However it's clear, that no witch or wizard chooses it's wand, but it's the wand, that chooses it's first wielder instead."
Then Ron started trying wands, first with his left, then with his right.
"Pine, with a very old ukranian ironbelly heartstring, exactly 13 inches, stiff."
He slowly raised it with his left, feeling a tingle from his wrist to the elbow, encouraged, he waved it toward my left: boom, and gone was the vase in the corner.
The flowers inside were dead anyway. Ron thought, even if startled by the violent reaction. But even while thinking that, he put down the wand feeling a bit guilty.
"Whistlethorn, with a snidget tail feather, ten and a quarter inches, rather bendy." he felt a zap stopping at his fingers, and waving it again towards the vase' shards, he caused them to embedd themselves into the wooden wall.
"Eleven inches of mahogany, with a single nundu's wishker, very springy."
That one burned his fingers before he could do anything with it.
Ollivander went on giving him sticks to wave around for more than fifteen minutes with varying degrees of success, before humming some more. Ron suddenly realised that the tape measure was still measuring between his nostrils. Mr. Ollivander was roaming around the shelves, taking down boxes.
"Obviously, is not the core, mr. Weasley, the important part, oh no. Because each branch of each single tree is unique too. Who is to say how this or that plant opposed the winds? Or how the rain has pelted on the leaves that it had sprouted with so much difficulties? A wand, mr. Weasley, is an identity, born from the merging of both wood and core." Ollivander went on, clearly loving the topic and willing to explain the gist of it, so that this Weasley could truly appreciate what a wand was, and the respect it deserved.
"That will do." the wandmaker said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, let's go on, Mr Weasley. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."
Ron took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.
"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try..."
Ron tried, but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr Ollivander.
"No, no. Here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."
At that point in time, Ron had defeated his nervousness and dared ask: "Does the wood have any particular meaning?"
Ollivanders eyes gleamed, finally he had found someone with the correct amount of awe and interest regarding wands.
"Oh, curious are we?" he chuckled. "Very well, as I said already, each branch is unique, just as each of your fingers is different from the others. A scar here, a bruise there, a callus. All signs that life leaves on the hand. And the same is for the branches. Now, the trees, the trees of the same kind are similar to each other in the same way you are similar to your brothers and sisters, Mr Weasley. But obviously they had very different lives, and as such, different... personalities. Some woods have a disposition, yes. And oh, the things I could tell you."
The wandmaker kept handing over wands that failed in a way or another, and after taking a deep breath, he resumed his ramblings about woods.
"For example, Oak trees are a symbol of courage and power, and some even call it the most powerful tree. They're famous because of their strength and resilience, as well as their unique growth pattern, expansive canopy, and gorgeous leaves. Oak trees can last for hundreds of years. Because of their longevity and size, some other special meanings include wisdom and honor, as well as strength of character. In ancient European cultures, oak trees were regarded as the king of the forest, due to their strength and steadiness. They are also considered to be very spiritual, which is where the term "Holy Oak" comes from. The trees are believed to be like spiritual guardians that can provide comfort and solace. And sometimes, they are. Many places of worship are surrounded by oak trees. They can also symbolize health, luck, resistance, morale, and survival. Oaks are also believed to be a healing tree, for the heart and soul, as well as the body in general. Native Americans would use bark from oak trees to treat frostbite, and there are a lot of remedies that involve using the bark for headaches." Noticing that Ron was staring at him with wide eyes, Ollivander slowed down, and soon he found himself talking to the much younger wizard, who looked like he was about to dance a jig, happy for the knowledge he was being gifted.
"Each kind of tree tends to develop cartain attributes, more or less in line with the others from its family. Cherry trees symbolize good fortune and luck when they bloom, and they also mean love, adoration, and romance. The lush cherry blossoms bloom once a year and are only around for a short time. Because of this, some see the tree's bloom as a reminder that life is short and that people should live every day to the fullest. While they grow in many places, they're very much tied to Japanese culture. Japan has an annual festival, Hanami, to celebrate the cherry blossoms. In Native American symbolism, they represent compassion and strong expression. Cherry trees can also symbolize happiness, mindfulness, awakenings, and rebirth. Some of the special meanings are perhaps because of the different health benefits that cherries themselves have."
Ollivander began once more giving out wands, but it was clear thst his heart was not in it, and even Ron, anxious to have his wand, seemed to completely forget about it, enthralmed by the words of the wabdmaker.
"Because of their year-round beauty, birch trees symbolize hope and new beginnings. Even after its soft green leaves fall off, the spare shape and slender trunk, with its peeling, shiny white bark, is still a lovely sight. They are one of the first trees to grow back leaves, so they are connected to the start of spring. In Chinese culture, the trees symbolize protection and rejuvenation. Other special meanings of these trees include protection, purification, and love. In Native American culture, their meaning includes truth and the cleansing of the past for a new beginning. The bark of these trees was very important to Native Americans, who used it in many different ways, including baskets, shoes, and artwork. Also, because of all the special meanings behind the birch tree, the wood is often used in cribs for babies. Maple trees symbolize balance, offering, practical magic, promise, longevity, generosity, and intelligence. One reason behind these meanings is that maple trees have the ability to adapt to many different soil types and climates. The maple syrup produced from these trees was an important food source for Native Americans and has come to represent success and abundance. A specific type of maple tree, the striking Japanese maple, symbolizes grace, great blessing, serenity of the elements, and peaceful retreat. It's especially beloved because of its beauty and star-shaped leaves. In Japan, this maple tree is sometimes referred to asmomiji, which means either "baby's hands" or "becomes crimson leaves." It's also a ritual in Japan to visit the mountains every fall to see that the maple leaves have turned to that crimson color, symbols of the arrival of fall. Dogwood trees are one of the most popular landscape trees in the country. Their special meanings include loyalty, safety, kindness, fertility, stability, determination, wishes, and protection. While their flowers appear gentle and small, they're actually strong enough to endure harsh conditions. This is why these trees are a symbol of durability. Because of their beauty, Wisteria trees represent romance. Redwood symbolizes forever, the elm inner strength and love, and pine trees humility. Fir trees represent springtime, fortitude, and immortality. Poplars abundance, independence, and resilience. Willows symbolize inner wisdom, dreams, harmony, and freedom. Because willow trees can regrow a new tree by putting a healthy branch into the moist soil in late winter or spring, these trees also symbolize renewal, growth, and immortality. Yew trees are for death and rebirth, cypressus for mourning and sacrifice, holly for the values of family, whistlethorn is for those a tiny bit mad and dangerous, while blackthorn tends to favour warriors."
By the end of that speech, Ron had tried a lot of wands. He had no idea what Mr Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.
Once he had finished his speech, the wandmaker's eyes seemed to regain their focus, and he stared at the young wizard, that realized he had been away for more than an hour already.
"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere. Here, another unusual combination, maple and chimaera heartstring, 13 and half inches, uncharatcteristically unyelding."
Ron took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers.
He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of silver and blue sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls, along with a brief flashes of light that sweeped the shop, raising the temperature in the room for a few seconds.
"I cannot pay you enough for this master Ollivander." Ron whispered. He was still looking at the wand. It felt right. He had grown used to the dull feel of Charlie's one, but that... it simply clicked. The handle was welcoming, and the warmth the young wizard felt made him want to laugh. Running a finger over it, the ravenclaw was already loving the smooth sensation.
"As everybody knows, my wands cost 7 galleons, Mr. Weasley Nothing more, nothing less." Ollivander dismissed me. "However, maybe I can interest you with a proper wand manteinance kit, or a wand holster?"
"No, thank you." Ron answered, counting the galleons that be was giving over. "But I wanted to ask, why Charlie stopped using his wand? I can't imagine ever leaving mine."
Ollivander swept away the money before assuming a thoughful expression: "In many ways, wands are like people, sometimes we take different paths, that lead us away from our loved ones. I couldn't say why your brother parted ways with his partner, after all, I expected them to grow together. I only know that at the time of his choosing, your brother was the perfect match for that wand."
Ron left the shop with a satisfied smile, going back to the book store, where he reached Hermione and Harry, that shot him questioning glances. Before they could start asking however, he spoke: "I'll tell you on the train."
Harry snorted, enjoying the outraged expression on Hermione's face. She really hated not knowing things. She half closed her eyes in suspicion: "If you went to buy secretly joke items to prank us on the train I swear, Ronald Weasley, that I'll learn every single prank spell in the Hogwarts Library and I'll drown you in them." she threatened. Harry laughed.
"You've spent too much time with the twins Hermione." Ron answered, his smile dimming a bit at being compared to any of his siblings.
With the two galleons he still had, gained from his winnings at school and a lifetime of savings, Ron wandered into the bookstore, looking for something that could help him understand how his mind worked. The Mind Arts by Vega Black was still waiting for him hidden in his room at Hogwarts, he had to transfigure and charm a safe under his wardrobe, but it was the only solition tgat came to mind.
Granted, Ron called it a safe, but it was little more than a squared hole in the stone with a few charms to repel the dust. He couldn't steal a book from Hogwarts, hide it was a different kettle of fish.
The Mind Arts by Vega Black was the most tiring tome he had ever read, in june, he had managed to understand which kind of mimd he possessed. And as such, which kind of personality he had.
He was the emotional-introverted-detached, logic-driven, strong-willed, creative type. Naturally he was, what else had he expected? It was surprising how predictable that had been. Perhaps, deep down, he had known beforehand. How could he not?
He still had no idea about what having a mind that fell under that 'type' entailed, but it was something he would work on during the following year.
He already knew that he wasn't prone to great manifestations of his emotions, not like Hermione, that would throw bone crushing hugs from time to time.
He already knew that he was a logic minded person, not like Harry that would just 'feel like' doing something.
Strong willed? He supposed it made sense, hadn't Ron chosen to carve his own path? Hadn't Ron chosen to find his own solution to his nighmare problems? And from there hadn't he chosen to refuse the prejudices he grew up with? About slytherins, if nothing else. Even if he could freely admit that it probably was mostly Harry's merit.
And obviously he was creative. Hadn't he started imagining whole new worlds since the first time he went to the muggle library?
He had the whole summer to think about it, and he soon had realized that there was nothing to like or dislike, it was simply how his mind worked.
He knew that the first step towards occlumency was knowing how your mind worked, the following series of exercises included a lot of meditation. He wasn't exactly eager to get started on that, since he imagined it would feel a little mind numbing, but he would soldier on.
Leaving his musings about his future plans, Ron finished roaming among the shelves dedicated to healing. In the end, he choose to save his two galleons. He would look into the Hogwarts library first, and maybe even ask Pince. Then during the following summer he could purchase a book he wouldn't have access to otherwise.
The late afternoon soon turned into evening, and, too fast for his tastes, the day with his friends came to an end.