Snowbyrd

Chapter six

Byrd sat down roughly. She held up the letter again. That amazing, miraculous letter. This letter said that she could do magic. That she was different, special. And, and the school! Hogwarts! She could learn everything she ever needed to know about magic! She could get a stick, er, wand! She could do all those things Ron and Hermione could and maybe even more! She could go to this school, learn, be with other kids like her, and… wait. She had just remembered the look of anguish on the face of the man in her dream-er, her father. He had needed someone to help him, and only she could do that. She looked back down at the letter, so full of hope and promise, and let go of it. It fluttered to the floor. Not now. Maybe later, after she had rescued her parents. If she survived. If her parents were still alive. If she could get there, and somehow get by the dangerous people. Without magic. With this thought she scooped up the letter and stuffed it in her bag. If she did do all that, she'd want this letter as a reference. And proof that she really could do all that.

Now wide awake, Byrd decided to fly on, even though it was dark and she had only gotten a few hours of sleep. She clambered onto the broom and took off, exhilarated, as usual, by the wind rushing by and the ground speeding away from her feet. She did a couple loop-the-loops for fun, but stopped once her trunk almost fell off.

After many hours sitting (now painfully) on the broom, Byrd excitedly found the town that was only a quarter mile away from the graveyard. Maybe, just maybe, she could find a store that sold wands.

She trailed around for about an hour, trying to ask for help but soon giving up. Apparently no one spoke the slightest bit of English here. Finally, she made her way to what looked like the town's center. Plenty of shops lined the streets. Finally, she found one that sold wands. Nervous, she stepped inside.

This store, unlike all the others around it, was totally empty and derelict. It looked as if no one had stepped inside here for years. She was about to turn around and go back outside when a voice startled her.

"Yes? How may I help you?" A thin, wheezing man had popped up from behind the counter. He peered at Byrd, squinting in the bad light.

"A young one, eh? Come to Gregorovitch's shop to buy your first wand?"

Shyly, Byrd nodded.

"Well, then, don't just stand there! Come, come, around the counter now, we need to try a few!" He paused. "You do have money, don't you?"

Byrd nodded again and took out the few coins Ron had given her back at the Burrow. The man, Gregorovitch, snatched it up and began counting. Then he pocketed it all and led Byrd behind the counter.

She followed him to a little room in the back of the store. It was empty and windowless. "Now, just stay put while I go get a couple wands." instructed Gregorovitch. Byrd hummed a tune she barely remembered, like some forgotten dream, while she waited. Finally, Gregorovitch appeared, carrying some long, thin boxes. He handed one to her.

"Here, give this one a wave, missy. Cedar and dragon heartstring, very powerful and good for Transfiguration." Byrd did not know what he was talking about, so she closed her eyes and waved the wand. Nothing happened.

She tried again. This time, Gregorovitch's cape flew up over his head. After disentangling himself, he took back the wand and handed her another. "Yew and phoenix feather. Whippy, good for charms."

Byrd flicked it at the pile of wand boxes. They rose and flew at her. She screamed and ducked.

"No, no, definitely not. How about…this one. Ash and unicorn hair. Great for advanced, tricky spells."

And so it went on. Every wand seemed to do everything but what she wanted it to. A memorable time was when she caused Mr. Gregorovitch's hat to mutate into a giant, fanged mouth that chased him around the room. But Gregorovitch was not to be deterred. Indeed, he almost seemed to enjoy it. Finally, they got to the last wand in the fifth stack that the wandmaker had brought. After announcing it ("Cherry wood and Phoenix Feather, Twelve in. Quite exceptional with defense spells."), Byrd got it right. With an odd combination of a swish and flick that the wandmaker had taught and some mumbo-jumbo words (Wingardium, Leviosa!), she caused the box the wand had just come out of to levitate a few feet off the ground. She had a wand!

After thanking mister Gregorovitch profusely, she left the shop with empty pockets and high spirits. She had a wand! And she could do MAGIC! Back at camp, she practiced the spell mister Gregorovitch had taught her over and over again, until she could do it perfectly. That night, she went to sleep cradling her new wand.

And then a dream came again.

The man, her dad, was tied to a post. He was hunched over on his knees, total defeat. Byrd could see shadows darting across the ground in front of him. People were talking, but she could not hear what they were saying. Confidently, she walked away from he dad and towards the voices. They belonged to people, huddled around three people. Two woman, one her mom, and a large man. Almost too large.

The people were laughing and shooting spells at the people. Every time a spells hit one of the women, they flinched or cried out. But nothing hurt the man. He was doing his best to shield the women, but Byrd could see he was losing consciousness fast. He gaze wandered from the people to a woman with long, black, tangled hair that stood apart form all the others. She was sitting on a magnificent tombstone, of the angel of death leaning over a white marble tombstone with a small etching on the back. Looking closer, Byrd could see it was of a skull, with a serpent gliding out of it. Then, the dream vanished, and Byrd was wise awake.

Without stopping to think, Byrd packed up everything and flew towards the graveyard. Her parents were in trouble, and they needed help now.

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