So I was writing my essay describing my wand for CHRM-101, Lesson 2, and the essay prompt advised me to post my finished essay to the lesson's discussion forum. However, I am new to Hogwarts Is Here, and I couldn't find such a forum anywhere, so I'm kind of starting my own...
Here's my essay:
Wand Length: 12 3/4 inches
Wand Flexibility: Supple
Wand Wood: Beech
Wand Core: Unicorn hair
I am a Muggle-born witch with no magic in the family within living memory. I was not chosen to attend any wizarding school, and I didn't even know I was magical until I recently received a virtual owl through my email inviting me to join Hogwarts Is Here for my wizarding education. It had never occurred to me that I might be magical, but once my mind was opened to the prospect, it made complete sense. It certainly explains a number of strange things that have happened to me over the past few years.
Hogwarts Is Here is perfect for me, because it allows me to keep up appearances in my normal Muggle life (because my status as a wizard is a secret and known to none but me). But I didn't know how I was going to obtain a wand, and I obviously couldn't pursue a wizarding education without one.
One day earlier this fall, I was home alone, working on some of my Muggle homework (which isn't nearly as interesting as my Hogwarts homework). It was a dreary day, raining lightly. When I (finally) finished my calculus assignment, I decided to take a short break. I went over to my bookshelf to find something to read. Suddenly, I noticed a small, carved bump on the side of one of the shelves. It seemed to be glowing slightly. When I examined it closer, I realized that it was a small button. I pressed it, and the entire bookshelf drew to one side, revealing a small space in the floorboards. Inside was a cardboard box, sealed with Spellotape.
I pulled the box out and closed the bookshelf by pressing the button again, and took the box over to my bed so I could open it. I went to peel off the tape, but it came off just by my touching it. The box was faded and dusty, and it smelled of cloves. Inside was nothing but a long, skinny velvet pouch and an envelope, the parchment brittle and yellow with age. I opened the letter first.
It was dated from 1856, and signed by my great-great-great-great grandmother, who apparently was a Muggle-born witch. Before she died, the letter said, she left her wand in this safe place in the event of any magical offspring. Only someone with magic, she wrote, would be able to find it.
I then withdrew the velvet pouch, and slid out the wand. The wood was surprisingly warm to the touch, and it fit into my hand as if it were made for me. The light wood was glossy and smooth, with no ornamental details except for a tiny etched line spiraling the length of the wand. Somehow, it made me feel complete. I raised it, concentrating, and a few bright red sparks burst from the tip, dancing through the air for a second before disappearing into thin air.
I smiled. I had my wand. Now I could truly be a witch.
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