Wandy Goodness

“Mo-o-o-o-om!” Taylor whinged.

It amazes me how many syllables she manages to put into a one-syllable word.  I swear one day I’m going to count them, and give her a prize. Well, maybe not. I don’t want to encourage her.

“Yes, dear?” My tone was politely snarky. In other words, you’re acting like a brat and we both know it. So you’d best straighten yourself up.

My daughter knows me well. She quit slouching over the back of my seat. In a perkier and therefore much more acceptable voice, she asked, “Are you going to order my wand today? I gave you the money for it last week.”

In all fairness, she had. It’s just that I had made a rush trip out of town, and barely got home last night. There wasn’t really time to think about going online to buy an official magic wand from Alivans. “I will, sweetheart, I promise.”

“And you remember which one I want, right? The crystallized purpleheart wand–” she began, and I chimed in, “with the Swarovski crystals.”

“I do remember, and I promise to order it today.” I did. To give Taylor her due, she had slaved away at all kinds of nasty chores to earn the money for the wand. I figure when she’s wanting to raise money for frivolities like this, the nastier the chores the better. So she had to do things like clean up all the dog poop out of the back yard (that got her $20 towards her wand–more than I usually pay for single chores, but she really earned it). And I saw her passing up movies that she wanted to see, because she wanted the wand more. I promised that if she saved up the money for her her wand, I’d pay for the shipping. She was delighted. I’m also paying for her copy of The Deathly Hallows, but I haven’t told her yet.

So the days passed. She called me every day as her hopes were dashed yet again. “It didn’t come yet, Mo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-om!”

“I’m sorry, sugar, that I didn’t pay for the express shipping.” I was, too. Trust me. “But it will be here soon. Just be patient.”

And finally the glorious day arrived. She called me, joyfully excited. “It’s here, Mom! It’s here!”

“Great.  Don’t break it or anything until after I get home, okay? I want to see it first.”

She groaned. “You’re such a mom.”

Not even five minutes later, my phone rang again.  I picked it up, but before I even got the receiver to my ear, I recognized the high-pitched shrieking as Taylor’s. “Honey, what’s wrong? Stop screaming and tell me what’s wrong. Is there blood? Are you hurt?” 

Her wailing shriek continued uninterrupted. I couldn’t get any sense out of her. I grabbed my purse and headed out the door, telling my secretary I’d give her a call when I got home and found out what had happened.

As I drove up the street toward our house, I saw an unusually large number of people crowding the streets.  My heart beat faster. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Fire? But there wasn’t any ominous smoke. Murder? Well, she was yelling pretty loudly, so she wasn’t dead. Beyond that, I had no clue.  I had to abandon my car. I couldn’t get anyone to get out of the way for it. 

Trust me when I tell you I never ran so fast with 3-inch heels on in my life.  As I neared our house, the high-pitched wailing was still going on, still unabated.  The eyes of the bystanders were large and eager. 

A friend came up to me as I got close to the house.  “Sheila, I tried to find out what was wrong, but she wouldn’t stop screaming.”

“Thanks!” I hollered over my shoulder as I frantically unlocked the front door and ran into the house.

When Taylor saw me, she stopped shrieking. Her batteries must have run down.  “Uh, hi, Mom?” she said feebly.

“Where’s the blood? What happened?”

She pointed upwards.

“Is someone upstairs? Did someone try to –” my voice trailed off as I looked up toward the ceiling. The dog was hanging upside down, his left hind foot highest, and he had a patiently perplexed expression on his face.

I stared at Taylor. I doubt I looked patiently perplexed. “What. Happened. Here.” I said, gritting my teeth, trying not to start screaming myself.

“Well, after I took my wand out, I thought it would be funny to try the levicorpus spell. So I pointed it at Stan and said ‘levicorpus.’ And that happened,” she said, in a small voice.

This wasn’t making sense. I went to the wet bar, poured a shot of Jack Daniels, and slung it back. Then I looked at the ceiling. The dog was still there.

“And what would the counter spell be?” I asked, trying to stay calm.

“I don’t remember.”

“Well, what book was it in?” I’m getting a CAT scan after this. I can’t believe I’m having this discussion.

Her face brightened up.  “Oh! Half-Blood Prince!” She raced upstairs, and then back down again, this time with a large book in her hands.  “Lessee, it’s on Christmas, I think. . .” She riffled the pages. “Here it is!”

Taylor pointed the wand carefully at Stan. “Liberacorpus!”

Stan began to plummet to the floor.

“Taylor!” I yelled, and she rushed to catch him.

When Stan had all four paws safely on the floor again, he looked around the room and then bolted upstairs. I knew where he was going: under the bed. I can’t say that I blamed him.

Then she looked at me, a huge grin on her face. “Mom! My wand! It’s really magic!” And before I could stop her, she pointed it at the vase of flowers on the table. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

And damned if that vase of flowers didn’t soar up into the air.

“Give. Me. That. Wand.”

“No! It’s mine! I saved up for it! You said I could have a magic wand!”

As we were struggling for her wand, the doorbell and the phone simultaneously began to ring. I threw the phone to her and ran to the door. There was a tiny little man standing there, wearing a suit that had to have been at least a century out of date.

“Good afternoon, madame. My name is Geoffrey Cadwalladder. I am a representative of Alivans. I think a serious shipping error may have been made.”

“Oh! You think so, do you?” I said sarcastically, as I ushered him into the house.

He took a quick look around, assessing the situation. “Oh, yes, dear, dear, dear.” And then he whipped out a wand and pointed it first at the flowers, which obediently returned to the table, and then at Taylor. She froze for a moment, and he swapped out the wand in her hand with another one.

He looked at me quickly. “I assure you, madame, that the one I have just given her is indeed a genuine toy wand. I’m so sorry about the error. She won’t remember any of this, nor will any of your neighbors.” He then flitted out the door as rapidly as he’d come in.

Taylor stood frozen for another moment or so, then answered the phone as if no time had passed. “Hello? Oh, hi, Lorena. Hey, Mom! It’s Lorena.”

My secretary. What was I going to tell her?

Taylor threw the phone back to me, and cheerfully pointed the wand at me. “Wingardium Leviosa!” I instinctively clutched the wall, and she laughed merrily. “Mom, you’re so goofy!”

I stared at her in stunned silence, then put the phone to my ear. “Hi, Lorena. Um, well, I guess she just had some kind of a, well, a fit or something, but she’s okay now. Thanks. I’ll be in tomorrow.”

I guess I should be lucky that she fancies herself a Gryffindor. Heaven help us if she’d tried one of those unforgivable curses, huh?

_______________________________

This was prompted by my sister saying wouldn’t it be funny if someone ordered a “magic” wand from Alivans, and actually got a magic wand. Because the very first spell I tried with my magic wand was the levicorpus spell, and L-squared, aka Charlie, is probably really glad it didn’t work.

Explore posts in the same categories: Harry Potter, Writing Prompts