Voldemorts Wand Novels & Stories

As the clash between Oscar and Damian reached its peak, Oscar seized an opportunity to turn the tide in his favor. With a swift motion, he retrieved a gleaming, arcane wand from his side, its magical essence pulsating with power. With a determined glare, he aimed the wand at Damian, channeling his energy into a single spell. A burst of magical energy erupted from the wand, striking Damian with precision. The impact caused Damian to stagger, his movements faltering as the magic worked its way through his body. The disabling spell had taken effect, rendering him temporarily incapacitated and vulnerable.

Her voice as she handed him the chain: “If they ever find it—if the mirror ever reflects blue—you must go to them. You must help them remember.” He tucks the pendant away. “Riddles and reflections,” he says to the silence. “You always did love your symbols, my Queen.” The pool flashes again behind him. A second image stirs, half-formed. Another face. Pale. Similar. But it’s not Eva. Not quite. The smile is wrong. The Wizard turns back. His hand trembles slightly as he reaches for the staff resting beside the pool. It’s taller than he is, carved from elderwood and silver-veined crystal, humming with the low thrum of old enchantments.

So long that dust had thickly coated it but somehow, it still seemed to be boiling. Picking it up, I approached the doctor and asked him about it. His eyes widened, confirming my suspicion that it was indeed strange. "Where did you find that? I thought I had disposed of it. That is an extract of Voldemort root. It is a poison that kills a human within an hour so, I would advise that you return it. I wouldn't want to be the reason why your master loses a maid." I smiled faintly as I returned to the stall. By the time I returned, the doctor had finished packing and handed the basket to me.

However, I was rooted to the spot out of intense fear as the vicious figure advanced towards me at a towering height. The witch drew out a wand from inside her cloak: a nearly eight-inch long black coloured crooked stick, assumingly made out of wood with a pointed edge. It was the most powerful and enchanting object used by wizards and other magical beings in the world and, into the wrong hands, was a weapon of mass destruction. I had been enlightened about this marvellously magical object by my nurse during her bedtime stories. Ironically, I was petrified at finally viewing this object in reality while I was so awestruck to hear it about all those years ago.

I quickly grab some casual clothes from our walk-in closets and stuff them in our bags. I closed Edgar’s bag. There is only one more thing to place in my bag, a thing I would never travel without. My wand, Dora. She is an old wooden wand made of oak. Oak from my family tree. “It’s nearly time to avenge them,” I said, stroking her before I carefully placed her in my bag.

Draco's deathly aura when he entered the van indicated he was in one of his worst moods, which was very surprising considering he had been with the lady boss just a few moments ago. Let's face it, Draco had finally been showing human emotions these past few weeks ever since he met Miss Jones. The man was previously like a robot who, apart from his deathly glares and his signature frigid scowl that always adorned his face, showed no emotion that could tell you what he was thinking or feeling inside.

I looked up resigned to my future. Gan-Gan walked over to the wall that had the weapons on it and the curtain began to rise. “I thought you said I wouldn’t need any of these today?” I said as I followed behind her. She opened a small panel that revealed multiple wands. All with different kinds of crystals. She pulled one of the wands off the wall that was white with a Blue Angelite crystal.

My fingers brushed against the cool surface of the stone slab, and with a firm grip, I heaved it aside to reveal the hidden compartment beneath. My breath caught in my throat as I beheld the object nestled within—a wand, its surface gleaming with an otherworldly sheen. Instinctively, I reached out and grasped it, feeling its weight in my hand as if it were a living thing, pulsing with dormant power.