Chapter Text
Getting your first wand is a day remembered by many of age witches and wizards, often seamlessly choosing the special mix of wood and magical core fit to them. This concept didn't apply to Clyde Lascher, however, and it seemed that every wand he picked up rejected him just as harshly as the last.
Ollivanders was famously known for pairing wizards and wands perfectly, but it seemed the shop owner was stumped today, pushing wand after wand into the pale boy's hand. Boxes stacked up next to Clyde, and when he nearly set fire to his already wild red hair, he politely refused the next wand handed to him and got to looking for himself.
"It really shouldn't be this hard..." He mumbled to himself, picking up a redwood wand with a dragon heartstrings core. Things were almost starting to look up, until, with the flick of his wrist, boxes sprayed across the room, wands getting flung from their silky beds.
Giving an apologetic glance to the owner, he placed the wand securely back in the box and retreated outside. Surely there were other wand shops, right? A wizard wasn't a wizard without his wand, at least not a good one.
~
The sun was retreating behind the hills by the time Clyde had returned home, wand-less. His parents sent apologetic looks his way, giving him words of inspiration as he slumped up the stairs.
"One day," they said, "you'll find the wand meant to be with you."
Sure he would. When he was old and grey, his knowledge of spells nothing past "abracadabra".
With Hogwarts starting up classes following summer, he only had a few months until he was to board the train like the other wizards and witches.
~
"Mr. Olivander, are you positive you don't have any more wands? Maybe an oak unicorn hair, or an Ivory Phoenix feather?" Clyde begged, desperate for any wand at this point.
The man in front of him rubbed at his greying beard for a moment, eyes flickering from Clyde to the ceiling.
"I guess we could give it a shot..." He mumbled, making his way to the back of the shop.
Clyde watched curiously, wary of the sudden wand that seemed to come to mind to the shop keeper. When he finally came back into his view, a white box was balanced in his palms, gold details swirling around the wood in a leafy pattern.
Looking at his outstretched hands for one moment more, Clyde reached hesitantly for the box, a jolt running from his fingertips to his toes as his skin made contact with the smooth box.
It was as if time stopped as he pushed the lid up, breath hitching in his throat as he looked inside.
The wand was pale applewood, the same shiny gold weaving it's way around the handle of the wand in intricate leaf patterns. The handle was thinner in the middle, widening as it reached a quarter of the way up the wand, the base enlarged as the top.
The sloping words engraved in the silk below the wand read "apple wood and Faerie wings."
That last bit confused Clyde a little. Faerie wings?
Sensing his confusing, Mr. Olivander was quick to aid him, explaining that faeries were quite tricky and playful, but also serious and determined. This wand, combined with the power and loyalty of applewood, and it's ability to connect with beings such as mermaids and faeries, made a powerful wand that could keep up with an equally powerful wizard.
He'd kept it locked up in the back because it was so rare that such a combination would arise, and was usually very harsh when rejecting wizards.
Clyde slipped his fingers around the handle, a surge of power filling his entire body, and it was at that moment he knew, or maybe he'd known since the wand entered the room.
This wand was definitely made for him.