“Wands are only as powerful as the wizards who use them. Some wizards just like to boast that theirs are bigger and better than other people's.”
- J.K. Rowling
Every year on his birthday Jaxon found himself more sad than anyone else should have been. It was on this day that his mother gave her own life so that he could fulfill his own. His father never let him foget that. Especially when there was a single white candle lit at the other end of the table when it was time to blow his own candles out.
Even now Jaxon carried on the tradition. Especially because he didn’t hear hide nor hair from his father on this day. That was one of the hardest things he had to overcame when he had finally reached his school age. And that separation only deepend when he’d informed his father that he’d already been given a wand. At first Mr. Raddock did everything in his pwer to keep the wand away from him. And while Jaxon was angry he knew he couldn’t afford to get as angry as he had the night he burned their home to the ground. That was another unforgivable thing he’d done to his father in his short life on this planet.
On the day before he was to board the Hogwarts Express the Raddocks paid a visit to Diagon Alley. It was everything he’d thought it be. Busy and bustling with an abnormal amount of people. Then again being cloistered off probably didn’t help his perception of the way things really were. But that didn’t matter as the sign for Ollivander’s came into his view. This wsa it. This might be the chance he needed to prove to his father that he wasn’t a monumental fuck up. Though those chances of actually doing so were slim to none.
The pair entered into the store, greeted by a rather friendly looking man. His father informed him that this was not the original owner or wand maker byt he was just as good as. “What may I help you gentlemen with today?” He asked in a tone that Jax wasn’t used to hearing. It was ... nice. “We’ll be needing a proper wand for my son. He starts Hogwarts tomorrow.” Mr. Raddock informed the young shopkeep. “Oh that’s incredibly exciting! Let’s see what we’ve got.”
The vibrant young man promptly disappeared into the back of the shelves standing on either side of him. Jax took a moment to take in exactly what was going on around him. There were boxes and knickknacks loitering all around. There was however something that stuck out to him, a portrait of a wildly haired older man flicking a wand repeatedly and having different colored sparks explode from it every time. He giggled softly but stopped when his father glared at him from the corner of his eye. Thankfully the young man had returned and plopped down several boxes causing a cloud of dust to puff out before them.
“Sorry about that!” He called and began to open each box. He explained thoroughly which wand was made out of which wood and their cores, lengths and any other details he felt necessary. All of this was complete jibberish to the young boy but he pondered it over before he selected the third one from the right. “Give it a wave.” The shopkeep urged. Jax did as instructed, mimicking the movement of the older man in the portrait. A flick of his wrist and a spark flew from the wand, causing some of the knickknacks off to the side of the desk to fly against the wall. The boy blushed and his father began to apologize for the behavior immediately. The shopkeep waved him off and instead turned back to Jax, encouraging him to try another. And he did. All of them.
It felt like hours had gone by and they were no closer to finding him a proper wand than the day he was born. Though with each failed attempt, Jaxon could only think of one that might have suited him but he was sure his father would never let him have it. It wasn’t until he’d tried nearly every wand on at least one of the shelves that his father had finally had enough. Despite the shopkeep wanting to keep them there, the two left the shop and the alley all together.
When they returned home it was quiet. Well it was always quiet but there was no banter or even attempt to make conversation. Jax retired to his room soon after supper. If he was going to be alone then he wanted to be completely alone and not feel as though he had to force a conversation.
Once inside his room he could finally let down the wall he’d been holding up all day. He didn’t care that tears were coating his face. It wasn’t like there was someone there to see or even clear them away. He collapsed on his bed and sobbed into his pillow. He’d cried so much that he’d actually tired himself out and fell asleep fully clothed and on top of his bedding.
It was nearly four a.m. when he’d finally woken up. It was dark in his room but he didn’t need light to know how incredibly swollen his eyes were from his rather poor display of self control. Slowly he stirred and managed to click on the light next to his bed. Jax swung his feet over the side of his bed and began to rub his eyes free of the sleep still in them. Just a drink of water and he should be okay to lay back down until it was time to leave for the station. The boy placed his hand on the bed side table and was met with an odd sensation. There was something there that wasn’t his. He pulled his hand back and looked down at the object.
Jaxon swallowed hard because he realized exactly what it was. The silver trim beamed under the soft glow of the light and it was almost like it was singing to him. His fingers crept back on the table and he managed to touch the box without flinching this time. Drawing in a deep breath, Jaxon flicked open the top and smiled warmly at it’s contents.
Twelve inches, Holly wood and a strand of his mother’s hair encased inside. Jax knew this came from his father. Whether he did it out of guilt or because he thought he should have it, Jax would never know and honestly didn’t care to. All he was worried about was that he had it and wondered if it would work. Granted he wasn’t allowed to preform magic he figured it couldn’t hurt to see. Besides he wasn’t the only one on the eve before their first day at Hogwarts that wasn’t the least bit curious. He was nervous but he held the wand tightly, closing his eyes to envision the exact movement again and the flick of his wrist was effortless.
When he opened his eyes he was pleasantly surprised to see that a glass of water sitting on his desk across the room was hovering only a few centimeters above it. He swore that if his mood would shine a light he’d blind the entire neighborhood at that moment. Jaxon gave another flick and the glass lowered back down. He took the wand in both hands and just looked it over. How odd it was that this was the wand he was meant to use and how very peculiar it was that a person, or a group of people for that matter, that knew very little about the boy had selected this for him. He sat in amazement of himself and of the gift that was now left twice for him.
He’d always thought that it was his mother behind the actions of both parties and despite not knowing more than what she looked like, what creature she was and how much she’d given up; Jaxon felt close to her. It was almost as if she were sitting there with him ruffling his rather messy hair back and giving him all the confidence he needed to go on; to school, to come home to a father that was rather vacant and to find out his true heritage. Whatever it was Jaxon was thankful for it and he voxed to never forget that he did this. He was the one that picked himself up and he would always be the one to do it.
