Of Brooms and Prejudices, or

When The Bare And Wintry Woods We See

Chapter 17

"Right, so just put your hand over it and say, 'Up!'"

"I did that a million times in class, and it didn't work," Lucia said, frustrated. "You can't imagine how humiliating it is to still be standing on the ground while all the little kids are hovering around you. Madam Hooch couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I think it's because the practice brooms are made out of elm, and I don't like elm."

Chador gave her a shrewd look. "You mean you're letting your own prejudices get in the way."

She stared at him. "Does it work like that?"

"I don't know. It seems logical. I mean, there's a sort of intelligence in magic, isn't there? If you secretly don't want something to happen, maybe you can make it not happen. What do you have against elm?"

After a moment, she said unwillingly, "Maybe that it's the wood my father's wand was made out of."

Chador's eyes went wide. "Oh. That could be a problem then." He sat down on the grass, and she followed suit. "That could be quite important, you know. How—can I ask—how do you feel about him?"

"Yes, you can ask. I'd almost rather everyone knew than go around thinking I secretly want to be like him. I've never met him, and he scares me, and I know he's done really horrible things. I think most people have been kind of afraid of him, but it's even worse for me because he has some kind of claim on me and could do horrible things to my mother if he ever decided he wanted to raise me like Draco."

"Not anymore, though. I don't know if people like him have any power anymore. At least not any social power, if you know what I mean. He's not important anymore."

Lucia gave a half smile. "Yes, I suppose that's true. How much power do you think importance gives people?"

"A lot. I don't know if anyone's ever studied it before, though."

"Ravenclaws," Lucia said with a smirk. "All you ever think about is studying things."

"Of course. Someone's got to understand how things work."

"I was just teasing you. I like studying things too."

"Slytherins tease?"

"Oh, shut up."

Chador smirked back. "Well, anyway, I think understanding things can help you stop being afraid of them."

"Or teach you that they're really worth being afraid of."

"Or that. But not in the case of a tree. If you're going to make wands, you can't afford to hate a certain kind of wood. Maybe your father had a wand made out of elm, but so did a lot of other people."

"Like who?"

After a moment, he went red. "I…can't think of any at the moment. I haven't memorized every great wand in history, you know. That's your job. Alright then. Forget wands. Take brooms. Lots of common brooms are made out of elm because it's an extremely straight wood but it's also bendable, so you can have a nice straight broom if you want, or you can get one custom made with all sorts of aerodynamic and maneuverability qualities to it. It's a nice wood."

"It's associated with death," Lucia said darkly.

Chador sighed. "Fine. I'll let you use mine. It's spruce. It's a Cleansweep Eight, so it's fast and very maneuverable. Touchy, though. That's why they don't give them to beginners. But you have to promise me that you'll talk to Professor Sprout about elm, because if you kill yourself on my broom, Madame Hooch will never let me play Quidditch again."

"I promise." Her voice was solemn, but her eyes twinkled.

She expected him to go off into the castle to fetch his broom, but instead he held out his hand and said, "Accio broom!" and moments later his sleek broom was in his hand. He grinned at her wide eyes. "We all learned that from Harry Potter a few years ago." And then again his grin faded, and his face went bleak and tight. "Well, never mind. Try this." He put the broom on the ground.

Lucia put her hand over it and said, "Up!" and to her delight the handle hit her hand.

"It's very obedient," Chador explained. "Sometimes too much so. It has a tendency to interpret your slightest movement as command. You can't go wriggling about on it at all, and even shifting your seat might send you off in the wrong direction. That's why it's so good for a Seeker but not so good for a beginner." He gave her a mock-severe look. "That's why they make very tame brooms for beginners. They don't give them Cleansweep Eights."

"I get the point."

"Good. I think I'll set a couple of spells on it to prevent falling off and to make it obey me instead of the rider if I want it to." He pulled out a wand of golden brown wood and muttered some Latin-sounding phrases, then caught her eye. "Rowan, with Veela hair. We went back to the Continent to get it when I started here, because Ollivander won't use Veela hair, but Veelas are native to the mountains in Croatia where we were from, and my parents wanted me to have part of home here. It's touchy, too, like my broom, except it has more of a mind of its own sometimes. Usually it knows what it's about, though, and it knows what I want in a very unusual way."

"That's what mine is like," Lucia said in surprise. "Not like it has a mind of its own but actually like it's part of my own mind."

"Not mine. It's more like we have a partnership. At first it took a little while to get used to it, and I was the most destructive First Year in Charms, but then suddenly we understood each other, and I have always led my classes in wand work."

"Interesting. Somebody needs to do a study of psychology and wands, I think. My mother studies a lot of psychology for her work, and it's very interesting. And it's not like Muggle areas of study can't be applied to Wizard areas of study. It's kind of stupid how Wizards tend to think they're so much better and different than everybody else."

Chador grinned and shook his head. "Get on the broom."

"I'm just trying to put it off a little while longer. I don't think I'm going to like it."

"Of course you will."

She didn't, really. Floating around above the ground made her uneasy, and she clutched the broom too tightly, so that it bucked under her and would have thrown her off if not for Chador's anti-falling spells and his quickness to take hold of it from the ground.

"Maybe it's a good thing the elm brooms wouldn't obey you," he said in something like awe. "I'd hate to see what a wood you didn't like would do to you up there. The only person I've seen worse than you was Neville Longbottom."

"If they made them out of holly, I'd probably be perfectly fine," she muttered. "Of course my brother is a very good flyer. Maybe I'm glad I'm not."