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In the spirit of saving money, the Chatfield family had decided to spend a week camping in the Devonshire countryside instead of going abroad, a decision which they came to regret on the second day of their holiday. Typically, the weather turned decidedly British, flooding their tent and all their belongings, and they were forced to change plans.
As Mr and Mrs Chatfield drove through the narrow winding lanes, quietly bickering over the top of the steering wheel and map respectively, they paused by a gateway, where a young girl with was balancing with her feet on the metal gate, leaning over it to pat a group of black-furred cows, her back to them.
“Excuse me,” said Mrs Chatfield, having just won the argument as to whether or not they should stop and ask someone for directions. “We were wondering whether this was the right way to Ottery St. Catchpole?”
The girl turned away from the cows and towards their car, and she jumped down from the gate. She wasn’t as young as either Mr or Mrs Chatfield had assumed from her short stature; she must have been about seventeen, possibly even older. She had dark hair that hung in wet strands around her face, and hazel eyes that reminded them both of a cat. The yellow rucksack she had left by the gate looked surprisingly dry, given the rain that was still falling heavily from the sky.
“Yeah,” said the girl. “It’s not far, actually. Carry on over the bridge, turn left, and then there should be signs from there.”
“Is there a hotel in the town?”
“I dunno,” the girl shrugged. “I’m here visiting my family, I’ve always just stayed with them.”
Mr and Mrs Chatfield thanked the girl, and carried on driving towards the town. In their rear view mirror, they saw the girl wave goodbye, before turning back to the cows.
“I’d better be off, too,” Artemis Hexley said to the group of heifers, once the car full of Muggles had driven away from her. “See you later, girls.”
She picked her rucksack up from the ground, and walked down the lane and over the bridge, turning right and following the path along the bank of the river until she came to a tall, ramshackle house made up of several stories stacked haphazardly on top of one another. Artemis walked to the front door of the house, winding her way around the chickens that clucked and pecked in the front garden. She knocked on the door three times, and the handle pulled down.
The door cracked open, and Artemis was greeted by a single brown eye at roughly the height of her shoulder.
“Artemis!”
The door opened fully, and the owner of the brown eye, a red-haired little girl flew out from behind it, wrapping her arms around Artemis’ waist.
“Hey, Ginny,” said Artemis, returning the girl’s embrace and briefly resting her chin on the top of the crown of her head. “As much as I like your hugs, can we go inside? I’m soaked through.”
Ginny let go of Artemis’ waist and took her by the hand, leading her through the door,
“Mum! She’s here!” she called out, much louder than one might have expected for someone so small.
“Ginny, how many times do I have to tell you? Don’t shout through the house, come and find me to talk to me,” said a lady’s voice from the direction of the kitchen. The voice was followed by the figure of a short, plump lady, also with red hair, appearing in the doorway, her hands on her hips. She caught sight of Artemis, and immediately softened, taking her hands off her hips and stretching them out towards the dark-haired visitor, and pulling her into another hug. “Artemis, dear. It’s lovely to see you. Bless you, you’re sodden. Why didn’t you Apparate closer to the house?”
“I only Apparated around the corner, Mrs Weasley,” Artemis replied. “I just stopped to pat the heifers.”
“Well, you had better go and warm yourself up. Go through to the sitting room and get a fire started and I’ll fetch you a cup of tea.”
Artemis nodded and did as she was told. She had known the Weasleys - her friends Charlie and Bill’s family - for a while now, and had stayed at their house several times in the previous two and a half years. She felt almost as at home here as she did anywhere else in the world, and by now she knew that there was no point in turning down a hot drink from Mrs Weasley.
She went through to the living room, and removed her wand from her pocket. She pointed the wand at the fireplace, and flames appeared in the hearth. She sat by the fire, her knees pulled up to her chest, watching as the flames danced in front of her, her wand lying on the floor at her side.
“You know, your hair will dry quicker if you use your wand for that, too.”
Artemis grinned, and turned her face away from the flickering fire, resting her cheek on her knee as she looked at the owner of the voice that had spoken to her from across the living room: a young man of her own age, with a freckled face and hair as red as Mrs Weasley’s and Ginny’s, who was leaning against the wall with his arms folded.
“I’m serious,” Charlie Weasley continued, his face straight. “You’re making the floor all damp.”
Artemis pulled a face at him.
“Are you going to come here and give me a hug, or what?” she asked him.
“Only if you keep your wet hair away from me,” said Charlie, smiling and unfolding his arms as he walked over to the fireplace and sat on the floor beside Artemis. As he went to hug her, she shook her head vigorously from side to side, sending droplets of water flying over him. Charlie grimaced and recoiled from her slightly. “Really?”
Artemis laughed and picked her wand up off the floor, and with a wave, her hair and the water she had shaken onto the floor disappeared.
“What? I kept my hair away from you,” she said. “You didn’t say anything about the water itself.”
She went to hug her friend, but he pushed her away, shaking his own head.
“Absolutely not. You don’t deserve a hug after that.”
“Not even when I haven’t seen you for over a month?” asked Artemis. Charlie had been abroad for the previous six weeks, ever since he had started his new job in Romania. This was his first time coming back home, hence Artemis’ visit to the Burrow. “How long are you home for, anyway?”
“My Portkey back is on Sunday afternoon. I just wanted to see Ron before he goes off to school,” Charlie replied. The youngest of his five brothers, Ron, was going to start at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, from which Charlie and Artemis had graduated back in June, in only a couple of weeks.
“Charles Weasley,” said Charlie’s mum, walking into the living room behind a floating tray filled with mugs and a plate of ginger biscuits, “get away from that fireplace at once.”
Charlie looked darkly at Artemis and shook his head. Artemis stifled a giggle. Charlie worked with dragons. A fireplace was the least of his worries.
“Has he shown you, yet?” Mrs Weasley said tersely, as the levitating tray stopped levitating and settled on the floor next to Artemis.
“Mum...”
“Shown me what?”
“Nothing,” said Charlie, not looking Artemis in the eye.
“Oh, really? Well, if it’s nothing, you might as well let Artemis see, mightn’t you?” Mrs Weasley’s voice was growing sharper by the second. “Go on. Show her.”
“Alright, alright,” Charlie turned to Artemis, his hand on the sleeve of his knitted jumper. “Just promise me that you won’t freak out.”
Artemis frowned, but she nodded her head. Charlie tugged on his sleeve so that his forearm was revealed, wrapped in a white bandage. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, and touched the tip of it to the bandage, which vanished.
Artemis gasped. On Charlie’s lower arm was the largest and deepest burn mark she had ever seen.
“Charlie, what the-”
“Freaking out,” said Charlie, pointing the index finger of his non-burnt arm at Artemis. “You promised you wouldn’t do that.”
“Well, that was before I realised that you had been turned into a living Guy Fawkes dummy,” said Artemis. “How the hell did you get that?”
“A dragon,” Charlie shrugged.
“Are you seriously going to try and shrug this off?”
Charlie shrugged again. Artemis fought the urge to punch him on his good arm.
“Apparently, the fire-proofing charm he used wasn’t powerful enough,” Mrs Weasley tutted, her hands on her hips once more. “I bet that had something to do with that wand of his.”
“I said you should have bought a new one before you left.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the one I have now,” Charlie protested.
“It has bloody unicorn hair poking out of it, Charlie.”
“It’s alright.”
“Alright?”
“You hear that, Artemis? My son gets burnt to a crisp because he won’t get himself a new wand, but according to him, it’s alright.”
“For Merlin’s sake,” said Charlie, his fingertips pressed to his temples, “can I just deal with one small, angry woman at a time, please?”
“Suit yourself,” said Mrs Weasley, turning to walk out of the room. “Artemis, dear, do try and knock some sense into him, will you?”
As his mother left the room, Charlie let out an exasperated sigh and pointed his wand to his arm again, replacing the bandage. Artemis had seen Charlie use that bandaging charm before, and she noticed that the bandage he had just applied to his own arm was nowhere near as neat as the ones he had conjured in the past. She lifted her eyes from his arm to his face and glowered at him.
“It will heal eventually,” he said, calmly. “It’ll just leave a scar, that’s all. And it’s not like you’ve never tried to set me on fire before,” he gave Artemis a small smile, which she didn’t return. Charlie shook his head. “Oh, come on, Artie. Don’t pull that face.”
“Don’t be a tit,” Artemis retorted, flaring her nostrils at him.
“I’m not-”
“Look at your arm, and look at your wand,” she hissed. “You need to get a new one.”
“I can’t afford it.”
“If that’s all it is, Charlie, I can pay for it.”
“I can’t let you do that,” said Charlie. “Look, I’ll carry on with this one for as long as I can, and save up, and then I’ll replace it.”
“Brilliant,” Artemis didn’t stop scowling. “In the meantime, I can start writing my speech for your funeral. I’ll make sure to tell everyone how proud, and stubborn, and downright stupid you are, and how you’d rather get yourself killed than...”
Artemis’ voice caught in her throat, and her sentence went unfinished. Her eyes drifted to the fireplace, where she watched the flames lick at the air, the bright light and smoke stinging her eyes. For a few moments, the only sound filling the air was the gentle crackling of the hearth.
“Alright.”
Artemis looked back at Charlie. He’d uttered the word so quietly that wasn’t sure she had definitely heard him say it. He gave her a small smile, and nodded his head.
“Alright,” he said again. “You can buy me a new wand, and I promise that I’ll pay you back.”
“I don’t care if you pay me back or not.”
“I know you don’t, but I do,” Charlie nudged Artemis’ foot gently with his own. “Just don’t charge me interest. I know what you bankers are like.”
“I wouldn’t know how to charge you interest even if I wanted to,” Artemis told him. “I get other people to do the numbers for me.”
Charlie chuckled, then his face grew serious as he started to turn his wand over in his hands.
“It’s weird,” he said. “It just feels wrong, getting a new wand. It’s stupid but it feels like cheating, or something, I dunno...”
“I know. It feels like you’re losing a part of yourself. Betraying that part of you.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s not stupid. That’s how I felt, too, when I had to get a new one,” Artemis sighed. “Word of advice, try not to go for a blackthorn.”
“I’ll try my hardest, but I don’t think I get much of a choice,” said Charlie, his eyes on Artemis’ wand. “You got there in the end, though.”
“In the end.”
“If you had the choice, would you have your old wand back?”
“I... I’m not sure. At first I really missed it, but then... I got that wand when I was eleven, and so much has happened since then, and changed since then. I’ve changed, too. Or not changed, exactly... sort of, grown, I suppose.”
“You haven’t grown that much.”
“If I wanted someone to make fun of my height, I’d have gone to visit Bill,” said Artemis, raising her eyebrows at the impish-looking Charlie.
“Sorry, it was too good an opportunity to miss,” he shrugged. “But I guess a change wouldn’t be such a bad thing. And you’re right, this one is looking a little worse for wear.”
“That’s what happens when you use a wand to toast marshmallows on a bonfire.”
“Maybe don’t mention that in front of mum. She’ll really lose her rag if she finds out about that.”
“I mean, you’re a grown man now, Charlie. What you do with your wand is no one’s business but your own.”
Charlie wrinkled his nose and furrowed his red eyebrows.
“You really didn’t think about how that would sound until you’d already said it out loud, did you?” he said, looking at Artemis out of the corner of his eyes.
Artemis placed her hand over her face and shook her head in response, unable to answer through her quiet laughter. Charlie shook his head and closed his eyes as he too started to laugh.
“Honestly,” said Mrs Weasley, appearing in the doorway once more. “Look at the two of you, sitting there giggling like a pair of naughty schoolchildren.”
“Yeah, well,” said Charlie, opening his eyes and grinning at Artemis. “Old habits die hard.”
Charlie agreed to let Artemis take him wand shopping the following day during her lunch hour. After a full morning of lectures, she was feeling restless. She spent the final half an hour before the apprentice curse-breakers stopped for lunch counting down the minutes until she could get up out of the uncomfortable seminar room. The second that they were dismissed, she threw her rucksack over her shoulder and ran through the halls of the bank to the main entrance, where a larger and louder crowd than usual had gathered. Dodging her way through the throng, she stepped out into the early afternoon sun that was illuminating the cobbled street of Diagon Alley, waving as she spotted Charlie’s familiar freckled face on the other side of the street, where he was leaning against the windowsill outside Eyelops Owl Emporium. Seeing her, he nodded his head in recognition and stood up, a smile spreading across his face.
“Sorry I’m late,” Artemis said as she reached him. She gestured vaguely to the crowd gathered on the front steps of Gringotts, “Had to get past all of that lot.”
“I’m used to that by now,” Charlie half-laughed, and frowned as he looked at the rabble. “What’s going on?”
“Reporters,” Artemis said, and Charlie nodded.
“They still not found the person behind the break-in, then?”
“Nope. It’s all still very big news here, the Prophet’s been all over it.”
“Well, it was a top security vault, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, but nothing was nicked, so it’s fine,” Artemis rolled her eyes. “But obviously, Rita Skeeter’s gotten involved and now there’s been a crowd like that outside every day. It’s annoying, really. Right, shall we?”
The two of them started to walk down Diagon Alley in the direction of Ollivander’s wand shop.
“How long have you got before you need to go back?” Charlie asked her.
“Doesn’t matter. They’ve got us all doing lectures for now, and there’s nothing they’re covering that I don’t know already, so I’m thinking I’ll just skip this afternoon.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s fine. Merula’s there, I can ask her tomorrow if I’ve missed anything interesting.”
Charlie frowned, but Artemis just smiled and carried on walking. Outside the wand shop, she paused, and her smile faded.
“What’s up?”
“Just thinking,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “I never thought to ask whether you actually wanted me to come with you.”
“Well, I assumed you would be, seeing as you’re paying,” replied Charlie. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, which is fine, by the way.”
“Of course I haven’t. You aren’t getting out of this that easily.”
“Worth a try.”
Artemis pulled a face, and sighed before continuing, “It’s just a kind of personal thing, isn’t it?”
“I guess,” Charlie shrugged. “I don’t mind either way. Do you have other stuff to do?”
“I do have a letter to send to your brother,” said Artemis. “I could go to the Owl Post Office and then come and meet you with my money?”
“Alright.”
“Just promise me you won’t run off with your old wand as soon as I’ve turned my back on you.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
Artemis left Charlie at Ollivander’s and made her way to the Owl Post Office, where she paid a sickle to have her letter sent to Bill in Egypt, and spent a little while stroking one particularly friendly tawny owl. On her way back to Ollivander’s, she stopped to ogle a new model of racing broom in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, and picked up a pair of milkshakes from Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlour as an apology for once again arriving late.
However, when she got back to the wand shop, she realised that she might as well not have bothered with the peace offering at all; Charlie was still nowhere near ready to pay for his wand. Instead, he was standing alone in the shop, and every available surface was littered with open rectangular boxes.
“Bloody hell, it looks like an erumpent’s been let loose on the place,” Artemis said, looking around at the havoc. She placed the milkshakes down on the windowsill and leant against it, frowning at the disgruntled-looking Charlie. “Not found one yet?”
“Not yet,” Charlie muttered. “Apparently the wand chooses the wizard, and none of these feel like choosing me.”
“Someone must have told them about the marshmallows.”
“Definitely don’t mention that in here,” Charlie shook his head. “I dunno. Maybe we should just forget about this and-”
“Charlie, if you dare suggest keeping your old wand, I swear that I will take it from you and shove it so far up your-”
“Artemis Hexley,” a voice called out from across the shop. Artemis immediately stopped threatening Charlie and turned to smile innocently at the wandmaker, Mr Ollivander, who had appeared behind the counter. “What a surprise. I do hope you’ve not broken another wand.”
“Not this time,” Artemis said, pulling her wand out from her robes to show him. “All in one piece, see?”
“I do see. May I?” Ollivander held out his hands and Artemis handed him her wand. He held it up and tilted it in the dim lamplight, examining it closely. “Blackthorn and phoenix feather. Ten and a quarter inches, unyielding, yes?”
“I think so.”
“And is it serving you well?”
“It is now, yeah.”
“They do say that blackthorn wands need to pass through a period of turmoil with their owners to be fully bonded,” Ollivander handed back the wand to Artemis, regarding her over the top of his spectacles with a curious expression on his face, his eyes glittering. “From what I have heard, you have faced more struggles than most witches and wizards of your age.”
Artemis half-smiled and made a non-committal noise as she pocketed her wand. Her hand was gripped tighter than usual around the hilt. Beside her, Charlie swallowed before speaking to Ollivander.
“Artemis is just here as my benefactor today,” he said, smiling in a good-natured way, his voice consciously casual. “The perks of having a friend who works for Gringotts.”
He glanced at Artemis, whose mouth twitched slightly. She hopped up onto the windowsill and sat in the window, next to the two milkshakes she had purchased from Florean Fortescue.
“Is that so?” Ollivander asked, his voice low.
Artemis nodded, making a point to smile cheerfully, but Ollivander didn’t return her smile. Instead, his eyebrows furrowed, and he turned away from her and Charlie, scanning the shelves. Charlie looked over at Artemis and shrugged, before going over to the window and taking a sip from one of the milkshakes.
“You know, last January I received an owl from the Khanna Estate,” said Ollivander, still concentrating on the shelves of boxes. Artemis felt her whole body stiffen involuntarily. “They wrote to inform me that their most recent delivery of rowan wood would be their last ever delivery of that particular wood.”
Artemis closed her eyes. She felt a hand squeeze her right forearm gently, and she opened them again, her gaze firmly resting on the floor. Charlie removed his hand from her arm and shifted his position so that he was directly at her side. She looked at him, and he offered her a very small but reassuring smile, which she took a shaky breath before returning.
Ollivander, oblivious to Artemis’ discomfort, continued, “Of course, I understood the reasons behind the decision, terrible business. Terrible. However, it was a shame, they really did produce some of the finest quality rowan I’ve ever seen.”
“Where are you going with this, Mr Ollivander?”
Though his question was asked politely enough, Charlie’s voice held a distinctly sharp undertone.
Mr Ollivander returned to the shop floor holding a long narrow box, which he opened to reveal a wand, intricately engraved with a pattern consisting of several ancient runes.
“I tried to eke out my supply of Khanna rowan wood for as long as possible, but eventually, I had to use it all. This was the last wand I made with their final batch of lumber,” he said. “Rowan wood, dragon heartstring. Ten and three quarter inches, surprisingly springy.”
Artemis looked at the wand again and felt a tugging sensation in the centre of her chest. Never before had she wanted so much to touch a wand that wasn’t her own. She forgot all about the one in her pocket; she wanted this one. She wanted the rowan wand.
But, Ollivander had other ideas for the wand. He held it out, not to Artemis, but to Charlie.
“Perhaps you’d like to try this one, Mr Weasley.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Charlie replied, looking at Artemis apprehensively. She attempted to look nonchalant, as if she wasn’t fighting the urge to snatch at the wand and keep it for herself.
“It’s fine, Charlie,” she said, breezily. “It’s just a wand.”
Charlie inhaled deeply, before nodding his head.
“Alright,” he shrugged. “This one probably won’t want me either, anyway.”
Artemis forced herself to smile, and Charlie reached forward to take the wand. He picked it up out of its box and held it in his left hand. His eyes closed, and he drew his breath before opening them again. When he did open them, they were on Artemis, and were filled with an expression of apologetic resignation.
“It likes you, doesn’t it?” Artemis asked him.
“I think so, yeah. I’m sorry,” replied Charlie, and Artemis nodded, trying not to show her disappointment. “But, you know, if this one likes me, one of the others might, too. If you like, I can try some more, and-”
“What?” Artemis shook her head. “No, Charlie, that’s ridiculous.”
“I just thought-”
“Well, don’t think. Just wave the bloody thing so we know for sure it wants you before I go spending my money on it.”
Charlie sighed, and tentatively raised the wand, sweeping it across the front of him. From it emerged a flurry of small golden particles that danced in the air like fireflies before disappearing. He turned back to Artemis, looking as if he were about to ask her permission for something.
“I said it’s fine,” she told him, before he could say anything. “Mr Ollivander, we’ll take this one. Thank you.”
Mr Ollivander bowed his head. He returned to the counter, took out a quill,and scribbled on a small pad of paper. After almost a minute, he spoke.
“That will be four galleons.”
“Only four?” Artemis wrinkled her nose. She had never been good with numbers, but from what she could remember, both her own wands had cost almost twice that much. The wandmaker chuckled at the look on her face.
“But you see, Miss Hexley, you’ve already paid for this particular dragon heartstring once before.”