Miss Violet had given him a stack of books all about magic wands. Harry was in awe of how amazing the books in the library were! There was a huge range in the different designs of the wands. Some of the books had incredibly simple wands that were little more than a stick. Some had incredible details with little flowers covering the handle or ivy climbing up the length of the wand. There was one book that was full of amazingly intricate wands. The wands had animals carved into the handles and spirals on the full length of the wand. One of Harry's favorite wands had decorative leaves all over the handle. The beauty of the wands left Harry wondering if he could ever be that good at whittling to make designs like that.

The pictures were amazing, but the book didn't tell the reader about how to make them. How would Harry learn to whittle leaves? The only solution that Harry could think of was to practice. He tried to go straight to making a bird, but now he thought it might be better to work on a smaller scale. When he reread the book on whittling, Harry saw the names of different cuts that they said he should practice. Some cuts were shallow or deep and from different angles. Harry was sure that he wouldn't need some of the cuts like the pyramid one, but he would need to practice more. And then there were two approaches to making a design. Like the leaf that Harry saw. He could either cut into the wood to make the leaf or cut all of the wood around it to make the leaf come out of the wood.

The sight of the ornate wands convinced Harry. He was going to experiment with all of the different cuts. So many ideas and thoughts flew through Harry's head that he felt like running straight to the shed to try all of them. Of course, once Harry had that idea, another thought came to him. The only safe place that Harry had to whittle right now was the shed and he only went to the shed when he did the gardening on Sunday. That was only once a week! If he only practiced whittling on Sundays then it would take forever for him to be proficient at whittling let alone to become an expert! Harry didn't want to take forever to learn how to whittle.

There was only one thing for Harry to do. He needed to find a way to find another safe place to whittle. Until the school year started up again, Harry only had two safe places: his cupboard and the shed. And if the shed wasn't going to work then Harry would need to smuggle his tools to his cupboard. Smuggling them wouldn't be easy and if Harry messed up then he would be in more trouble than he had ever been in before.

If Harry tried to smuggle the knives and only the knives into the house, they would need to be under his shirt. But that might lead to Harry getting stabbed by the knives! Frustrated, Harry realized that this wouldn't be a quick and easy problem to solve. He closed all of the books and put them on Miss Violet's desk. She had told him that it was better than the reshelving cart and Harry wanted Miss Violet to like him so he followed her instructions to perfection.

Walking out of the library, Harry didn't immediately go to Ms. Polkiss. In front of the library, there were many trees. The trees were huge and towered over Harry. Each tree looked different from the others so Harry thought there would be a good mixture of different types of sticks. He walked to the base of the trees and looked for small branches and twigs. The twigs would probably be just the right size for Harry's wands. In the books that Harry read, it said that the wands were used to channel magic but usually was not magic itself. Maybe if Harry was lucky, his wand would be cool enough for him to make a friend. And if not, he still would have a really cool wand like the book.

After a few minutes, Harry had found about a dozen sticks. He looked at each one carefully. He wanted to make sure that he would use the best sticks for a wand. He would pick up the fallen sticks and make sure to break off leaves that were sticking out of them. He would then try to bend it to see how flexible each one was. Harry wasn't looking for something specific, but he was trying to find one that felt just right. He discarded one stick because it was too thick and resisted being bent. It resisted Harry so much that he thought that it wouldn't like to be made into a wand. Another stick he denied because it was too skinny and if he tried whittling it then it would probably break or disappear. Another stick he denied because it was too short. It was barely the length of his hand. One stick was way too long, but once he broke it in half, he decided that it would be fine.

Finally, Harry had his final contenders. There were five sticks remaining. One was so flexible that Harry practically bent in two and it still didn't break. Another was only minorly flexible but it smelled so nice that Harry had to keep it. It reminded him of winter. Winter didn't have too many fond memories, but Harry knew that winter had many fond memories for most people. The memories of the holidays were some of people's fondest. Christmas and spending time with family are significant.

The other sticks were nice but weren't as notable. Harry took two of the sticks and put them in his back pocket. He pulled his shirt over his pocket so no one knew that they were there. The other three, Harry tucked under a nearby bush so he could find them later. These five sticks were going to be his practice sticks. Harry wanted to start with the stick that smelled of winter. It was also minorly flexible so Harry was confident that it would be easier to carve.

Ms. Polkiss was sitting on the same bench that he last saw her on. He stood slightly to the left and behind the bench. He knew that it was soon going to be time to leave, but he didn't want to bother her. When she caught sight of him, she smiled and patted the bench next to her.

"Why don't you sit down Harry?"

He sat but he kept himself ready to run if he needed to. He had never sat so close to an adult before.

"So Violet is a good friend of mine and she said that you are one of her favorite library patrons."

Harry felt a bit uncomfortable, he had never been complimented like that.

Ms. Polkiss didn't continue so Harry felt like he had to say something, "I like Miss Violet. She helped me with my question and she's really smart."

"She is one of the nicest people that I have ever met. She was telling me about some of the books that you have been reading. Is wood carving and magic something that interests you?"

"A bit. I found a whittling kit and I wanted to know what it was. The tools looked different from anything that I had ever seen. I only looked at magic because I thought it would be cool to carve a wand or something like that." Harry wouldn't look her in the eye and his words were spoken softly.

"That's great. I am glad that you found something that interests you. You're being safe, right? Knives can be good tools but only if you're careful."

Harry nodded. "I don't play with knives and I am always careful when I use them." He didn't get to really play with anything, to begin with, but something was telling him that maybe he should keep that fact to himself.

Ms. Polkiss wouldn't expect anything different from Harry Potter. Her son tended to not think things through, but Harry seemed smart and level-headed. Petunia was a lucky aunt to have such an easy child.

Ms. Polkiss gathered the two stray boys and they left as a group.

As Harry got closer to Privet Drive, he slowly sunk into himself. Aunt Petunia was going to be angry and Harry would need to find a way to smuggle his sticks into his cupboard.

Dudley ran out of the car as soon as they pulled up but Harry was far more lethargic in his movements. Dudley ran through the house and left the door open. As Harry followed, he saw Aunt Petunia standing in the kitchen cutting lemons. Aunt Petunia turned to Harry and smiled. Harry had never been so scared.

"Perfect. I have been expecting you for a while. I have the perfect job for you." Aunt Petunia cut one last lemon in half and turned to grab a pitcher from a cabinet. "I want you to squeeze each lemon by hand into the pitcher. You will do this until the container is full."

Grabbing the first lemon half, Harry squeezed it into the pitcher and he realized why this was his punishment. Since Harry had done gardening yesterday, he was guaranteed to have been cut at least once by the rose bushes since they don't give him gloves. The lemon juice burned when it came into contact with his cut. It hurt so bad that Harry couldn't help but hiss through his teeth in pain. It stung and even when Harry rinsed them out, the pain lingered.

Harry stood there squeezing lemons for nearly two hours before the pitcher was full. His hands were throbbing and stinging simultaneously. While Harry squeezed lemons, Aunt Petunia watched him from the dining room. Every time he hissed in pain, Harry could have sworn that he saw a glint of happiness in her eyes.

Seeing that Harry was done with his task, Aunt Petunia frowned a bit.

"Go to your room. There will be no dinner for you and tomorrow you have a long day ahead of you."

Harry was never so grateful for being allowed to go to his cupboard. So far, Aunt Petunia hadn't seen his sticks. As the door shut and he heard the click of the locks, Harry finally allowed himself to relax. He did it! He kept his sticks a secret from Aunt Petunia and now that he was hidden away he could keep them. None of the Dursleys had ever gone into his cupboard and it was the only safe place left.