CH44 - The Wand Chooses the Wizard

Wandcare had become a regular custom for Edmund, giving him valuable time to reflect and ruminate on the past week's events.

Indecisiveness and hesitation had no room on the battlefield, but paying no thought to his actions was also a slippery slope.

Edmund was not afraid of straying from the path he had set for himself and turning into another Voldemort. He had enough faith in his moral compass that it would not steer him wrong. He had to if he wanted to achieve any of his goals.

No, his anxiety was more about losing sight of the present in his pursuit for the future. He worried about becoming someone like Dumbledore, who tended to plan ten steps ahead, not considering the long-term implications of the things he would need to do to reach such a point.

His increasing proficiency with subconscious manipulation was one such cause of concern for him. Edmund was no hero, but neither was he a monster. Ultimately, mastery of the discipline would only help him save lives. The power was likely going to be used as an alternative to killing and torturing or to spy on his enemies without endangering others. In some ways, it was a mercy.

But were the scenarios Edmund would have to manipulate to practice the ability worth the benefits it would bring him?

He was overthinking it. He knew that. But being overly critical of himself was meditative to him, clearing his mind of any doubts in preparation for the upcoming challenges he would have to face.

Shaking himself out of the reverie he had fallen into, Edmund refocused on the task at hand.

Water dripped down the length of his wand, emptying into a small stone basin he had positioned underneath it.

Once clean, the magical focus was again submerged in a shallow vessel containing a murky brown concoction. The substance was a highly specialized cleaning solution explicitly made with wands in mind. Essentially, it worked by stimulating slight growth in the wooden casing of the wand, filling in any of the knicks or scratches that may have occurred.

The banged-up focus was returned to pristine condition through the procedure, finished with a protective varnish to prevent further damage.

Water was used to remove any grit or dirt, and the wand-care potion for repair. The process was repeated several times until the user was satisfied.

After he was done, Edmund carefully drained both bowls before wiping down the wand with a cloth rag.

He twirled the wooden stick in his fingers, glancing over it for any bumps or abnormalities.

'Perfect,' he sighed with contentment, feeling pleased with the outcome.

The wand vibrated rapidly in his palm for a few seconds in response.

"Yeah?" Edmund chuckled. "You like it, huh? It must be like a mini-massage for you after a hard week of work. You take care of me all the time. It's only right that I take care of you as well."

Since the first instance of communication on the Hogwarts Express, Edmund had worked hard to build a connection with his wand for better cooperation between the duo. The journey had been slow and arduous, with significant milestones coming few and far between.

It was almost like working with a child. The wand seemed to understand Edmund's emotions well enough, but little else. Pleasure and satisfaction with its performance seemed to be its greatest motivators, and Edmund had ensured he provided plenty of both.

Searching for books on the phenomenon had yielded him absolutely nothing. Perhaps knowledge on the subject had never been penned down and was lost to history. Or maybe such a bond between wizard and wand was highly obscure, only available to those such as Edmund, who possessed an extraordinarily strong connection with their partner. It was even entirely possible that the situation he was in was a novelty, a never before seen occurrence.

The answer was probably some combination of the three.

Regardless, the bond was an advantage for Edmund that no one knew of. He was determined to exploit the hell out of it.

Slowly, Edmund had begun associating his emotions with specific thoughts and spells. Happiness was expressed when the wand channelled the correct amount of power Edmund desired into a spell. Dissatisfaction was shown when it misinterpreted his visualization and provided faulty results.

Over time, their range of communication increased.

The wand could intrinsically recognize what magic Edmund wanted to perform simply from the memories and thought processes rushing through his mind. Silent casting was made easier and faster as a result since his wand understood on a base level what Edmund was trying to accomplish.

It was incredible. Edmund realized this. But it was not the goal he had in mind when he began his experimentation. He wanted to test something different. Something that could help him out of a bind.

Literally.

Walking to a different corner of the Room of Requirement, Edmund stood before a large circle. Within it was hundreds of wooden blocks of similar size and shape strewn across the floor. With a string of colour-changing charms, their grainy appearance was transformed into various shades of colours.

An Incarcerous had Edmund's hands tied together with a silky ribbon. It was easy enough to break out of in a pinch but not so flimsy that it would snap accidentally.

Placing his wand onto a table on the outer edge of the circle, Edmund sat down cross-legged in the very center of it.

The idea was to train his wand to cast a Finite Incantatem on Edmund whilst out of his grasp. In the unforeseen event that Edmund was separated from his focus, the spell was the most useful one it could know. Finite could sever any magical shackles on Edmund, lift a sleeping enchantment, or undo any restrictive magic he may be under. Giving him a fighting chance while his enemies expected Edmund to be incapacitated could be an ace up his sleeve.

If only he could get it to work.

'Here we go,' Edmund thought as he sent a list of precise instructions to his dazed magical focus.

The wand buzzed back in response, its confusion apparent even with its limited communicative capabilities. 'Are you sure?' it seemed to ask.

Edmund sent back a feeling of approval, ready to bolt at any moment.

A silk ribbon erupted from the wand's tip, flying in Edmund's direction through the air. Despite himself, Edmund smiled.

'No, no, no,' he tried to convey. 'Don't tie me up. Break me out. Break. Out. Try again.'

The wand vibrated in assent before firing once more. This time, the bright light of a cutter spell shot towards him, and Edmund did not need to activate his danger sense to know he ought to duck out of the way.

Breathing more deeply, Edmund threw out a series of images to better demonstrate his wish.

A box falling to the ground from midair due to the cancellation of a levitation charm. Ropes unfurling around a person because of the undoing of a Full Body-Bind curse. The invisibility of an object fizzling out. Self-cleaning kitchen equipment falling into the sink because of their magic failing.

'Again,' he reiterated.

No signs of a spell being fired made themselves present, but several of the wooden blocks closest to the wand returned to their original build.

'Yes!' Edmund cheered, and the wand returned his excitement equally as much. 'More! It was good, just more power!'

Edmund likely should have anticipated the action his words would yield, as the next thing he knew, the entire circle of blocks had been disenchanted, and Edmund's restraints also came undone.

Holding the strip of cloth that had been tying his hands together only a few seconds earlier, Edmund let out an incredulous laugh.

'That's it!' he praised before tempering his happiness slightly. 'But it's too much. Ideally, nobody will notice that I've been freed at all. The effects of the charm should apply only to me, not to everything around it.'

Edmund transmitted several pictures to that effect, showing himself being freed but the wooden blocks maintaining their odd new look. As he did so, he reset the circle before placing himself inside it once more.

'Again!'

*-*-*-*

- (Scene Break) -

*-*-*-*

"Hello, chaps!" Professor Sprout greeted warmly, ignoring those who had fallen asleep because of their tiredness in the early morning. "Off we go, to Greenhouse One."

Grumblings erupted immediately, with some students groaning loudly to indicate their displeasure with the schedule.

"C'mon, man!"

"Another day of watering the wormwood it is..."

"Why can't we do something new for once?"

Professor Sprout waited for the noise to die down, slowly growing irritated when it showed no signs of doing so. Eventually, she exasperatedly threw her hands into the air as she clucked her tongue.

"Fine, fine!" she hushed the crowd. "I hear you. I suppose you are all far ahead enough in your studies that we can take a day off."

Whooping and high-fiving broke out instantly, bringing a reluctant smile to Sprout's face.

"But!" she interrupted severely. "I expect you all to follow my instructions to the word. There is a good reason that the upper years are responsible for the more dangerous plants. If an incident occurs, you will not know the spells needed to get you out of them, and I will be very upset with you all."

She looked at each student's face, finding nothing but eagerness. She rolled her eyes.

"Alright then. I suppose today you will be getting your first taste of Greenhouse Three. Follow me then," she ordered.

The others peered in with wide eyes as she opened the lock to the previously unseen conservatory. Rushing into the classroom, they immediately disregarded her instructions to stick together.

Some made their way to the spiky bushes, admiring the pointed needles sticking out of them. Others went to the overgrown venomous tentacula plant, watching its stems move around independently.

The first-year Ravenclaw, Derek, walked alone to a small glass enclosure in the corner of the room. Dimly, he could see eight moving objects within. They were small, about the size of a large mango, with a disproportionately large purple bulb and a bunch of green leaves growing on top.

At the base of their cage, he could see a large sign in bold capitalized letters, where two of the eight strange plants were sitting, obscuring part of it.

__ ___ OPEN, PLEASE! ___ MEANT TO BE RELEASED!

Derek glanced around, seeing no one paying attention to him. The other kids were looking at the more interesting flora while Professor Sprout was juggling several Mandrake pots with her wand, a single levitation charm keeping them from being knocked over.

He shrugged before lifting the glass covering.

Before he was hit in the face, he was able to catch a glance at the whole message inscribed at the bottom.

DO NOT OPEN, PLEASE! NOT MEANT TO BE RELEASED!

The purple plants scattered all over the classroom, hitting various students in the face. Professor Sprout quickly caught wind of the issue. "Bouncing bulbs! They are relatively harmless but can leave a mean bruise if they manage to hit you! Use a knockback jinx if you know it to subdue them!"

The directions were a mistake to give to a group of panicked first years. A flurry of knockback jinxes flew throughout the greenhouse. Most missed their target entirely. Some hit other students, sending them flying into more dangerous plants. The ones that hit a bouncing bulb accurately often rebounded the plant into another student.

Edmund sat isolated from the others under a desk, using his danger sense to the extreme to detect any projectiles or spells shooting his way.

A bouncing bulb was sent back to where it came from when it tried to flank him. A student barreling through the air was sent in another direction, a cushioning charm applied to them for safe measure.

The chaos reigned for almost twenty-five minutes, the amount of time it took Professor Sprout to finally wrangle the last of the bouncing bulbs into submission.

By then, the classroom was in disarray. Students were lying on the floor with injuries all over them. The chairs and desks had all been moved frantically by those looking for refuge from their leafy attackers.

The area looked more like a crime scene than a learning space.

Professor Sprout winced and clenched her teeth in sympathy as she handed out bruise paste to those who needed it. "We'll stick to Greenhouse One for a while. How about that, ay?"