The Darkwood Wand

Echoes

"Is that what last night was? Courting?"

"She's stubborn. As I said, more subtlety is needed." Tennant stepped forward, kicking aside books with a knee-high black boot and sending a small cloud of fairies flying. The tiny creatures buzzed angrily as they alighted on higher shelves, their sparkly wings catching the lamplight.

Tennant lowered his voice. "The Ravenclaws are holding a secret party tonight."

Draco was interested despite himself. He didn't know Ravenclaws threw parties, secret or otherwise.

His roommate was rubbing his hands. "I overheard two eagles talking about it. No classes tomorrow—security training for the staff." He chuckled at the very idea of school security.

"Slytherins not invited, of course." Tennant's pale blue eyes grew sharp. "But I'm sure you can get around that."

"Really," Draco said, trying to look bored.

"That little Ravenclaw of yours. With the glasses." Tennant gave Draco a lewd grin. "Even the clever ones want it, don't they? Especially the clever ones." Tennant's grin grew wider. "You might find the party interesting, Drakey."

"They'll never let you in."

"Oh, I'll get in alright," Tennant said, savoring the innuendo. "I heard the Ravenclaws invite select students from other Houses. Such as our favorite Gryffindor swot."

Draco looked at his roommate, standing there all bluff and smiling, continuing the Dark Lord's reign of terror in his own small way. He felt the beginnings of a headache return. I'll never be free of it. Never.

"You think—" Draco began.

"A-HA!" A sharp hiss made both men turn and Draco couldn't help a tiny groan. Not Granger, thank Salazar, but almost as bad.

"Plotting." Ginny Weasley's wand was out, her feet set apart in a stance much like Tennant's. She was again dressed in black, down to her leather gloves.

"Now, now, Red." Tennant was determined to get the upper hand this time. His own wand appeared and he twirled it lazily in his thick fingers. "Let's not get excited ... yet."

Weasley sniffed around the Faeries section. "You've been casting spells in here." She lunged with snake-like speed at Tennant, touching her wand to his: "Prior Incantato Continuum!"

Draco's jaw dropped when a ghostly shape coiled up from Tennant's wand—a bra shimmered and vanished. The memory of Astoria, running out of the shelves with books clutched to her chest, flashed through his mind. For crying out loud.

He remained silent, however, unwilling to interfere. He certainly didn't want Weasley turning the Reverse Spell on him. It was nobody's business that the harlequin turned his three silver inkpots into white kittens that morning. And the wand wouldn't change them back until Draco petted the creatures. The cats didn't bite his fingers, but he was sure they wanted to.

Tennant shoved his wand into his pocket, but it did no good. More echoes of his recent spells drifted out of the jacket: a falling book, an oddly shaped sock, a bottle pouring bubbles with a faint scent of honeysuckle.

"STOP THAT!" Tennant's voice resounded through the quiet library, and even Weasley looked startled. Draco remained still, distracted by the pale nose hair clippers now floating out of Tennant's pocket. The clippers snipped and snipped and little glowing hairs fell to the floor. Who had that much nose hair?

Howling, Tennant charged Weasley, who deftly stepped aside. Tennant's momentum took him right out of the section; Draco heard the clacking of shoes on stone and Madam Pince's sharp cry, "MR. ROWLE!" Then came the deafening slam of a door, and Draco and Weasley were left staring at each other.