Voldemorts Wand Novels & Stories

It fit snugly in her palm and she smiled at the warmth. “It’s made from the branch of a four-hundred-year-old white oak, soaked in holy water, until the color was bleached out of it. The end, past those markings, is carved from the scapula bone of an angel.” Serenity’s gaze snapped to the end of the wand, as her hand flew open. She turned it, noticing for the first time, the small holes in the end, the webbing of bone. She stared at it, wondering if she should put it back. She didn’t want anything to do with angels… But the more she held it, the more she was convinced, it was hers and hers alone.

"The best wands are between twelve and fifteen inches long. And you don't want them too thin or the magic projecting through it could shatter. But you don't want it too thick that it becomes heavy and uncomfortable either." "How do we know the difference?" My face burns when half the class turns to stare at me. "I mean, I've never made a wand before, what if mine is too thin but seems fine to me?" "A good guideline, Brene, is to find a branch that's about the same diameter as your middle finger or a little thicker at one end that will be the base-the part you'll hold. Oh, and it's perfectly fine that the branch isn't super straight, just not one that's a severe angle. But gnarly or slightly

“The wand chooses you.” I snapped him a look, unsure of what he meant. But as if on cue, one of the wands in the case began to tremor and my eyes instantly found it against the back corner, hidden beneath another wand. The wand looked to be made of the same wood that Damiens’ wand was made of, and it was about the same size. It had a black handle with multiple colored chakra stones wedged into it. I gasped when I saw the colors of them. I recognized them instantly as the colors of my mate's eyes.

Summoning another fireball, I aimed it at him only for him to dodge. “Come on. Is that all you've got? I expected better! But wait, I now see why Sire always thought you were just not up to the mark. I see it all now,” that infuriated me and this time, thick branches erupted again from the earth, wrapping around him, holding him up like a prisoner before shooting off to the heights, taking Desmond along with him and making his wand drop. I wasted no time to take a run for it, the piece of thick stick, and secure it under my shirt.

He did not even look this happy when he had won the Science Olympiad a year ago. "Of course you are." I stood on the tip of my toes and gave his cheek a kiss. "So, what is that?" I pointed at the stick he was holding. Hunter looked surprised. "You do not know?" He brought the stick closer until I could finally see what it was. It was a replica of the Elder Wand, the most powerful wand in the history of magic wands. "Did you put the pieces back again? I remember Harry broke that one in Deathly Hallows."

Elegantly dressed in deep blue robes, he steps around the desk. “How can I help?” He questions. His voice was deep and soothing, and his greying hair was slicked back into a low ponytail, kept there by a rope. “The King wishes for you to activate the witch’s amulet and send this girl to her own world with it to be destroyed there.” The Wizard’s expression becomes alerted to the words and steps closer to me. This was the first time someone had approached me where I felt no fear, I just didn’t know why.

The dark skin girl’s face darkened even more, but only for a moment, as Professor Smart placed a beautiful wand in her right hand. “You can keep it until you manage to make one as good. Just don't start crying because I saw thousands of girls crying and I’m fed up with it.” The girl started to smile, but not because the professor asked, but because she got a wonderful wand: reddish because of the cherry wood it was made of, with green aura surrounding both the wand and the girl's hand, from the jade stone which was on top. Lionel Squisshy got close to Elizabeth's wand again and as if he saw it for the first time, and exclaimed again, to Prince Dragoesti’s indignation:

My mother screamed—the correct reaction. “What the fuck?” Sara, my sister, gasped as she walked into the room and squatted next to our father. A large puddle of blood had formed by his face, seeping out from his mouth and nostrils. She pulled a dart out of his arm and smelled it. “Wolfsbane,” she said. “How ironic,” I responded. “What?” She looked at me, confusion on her face. “Well, it was his idea to use wolfsbane darts in battle. It’s pretty ironic that that’s how he dies in the end, eh?”

Vivian trembled when Sandilo’s forceful voice resounded in the room, “What is in this?” “Ummm….it…has…some things…I took it off…as I wanted to treat my bruises.” Vivian felt very self-conscious when his eyes swept over her from head to toe, “Bruises! Where.” Vivian was tempted to last out at him sarcastically, but she managed to bite her tongue at the right moment. “My arms are hurting. I need to use the wand in the backpack to heal it.” “Wand, what is that?” “It is a device that heals the wounds.”

His eyes which had returned to their normal, grey hue turned green - bright, dazzling and comforting to Cwena. He stretched out his hands, closed his eyes for a few seconds and moved his lips in small, unreadable trends, muttering a spell. The wand shook on the ground, raised to air and flew straight into his hands. “Evictendius Relarmus!” Sir Oswic commanded in a booming voice as he managed to turn and look at the tyronimic. A massive gust of wind, almost as intense as the first sprang out of the wand and pushed the tyronimic backwards a bit and him forward, out of the tyronimic's grip - not before it yanked off a piece of his leg's flesh.