Coral

There\'s a tree out in the backyard



That never has been broken by the wind



And the reason its still standing



It was strong enough to bend



For years, we have stayed together



As lovers and as friends



What we have will last forever



If we\'re strong enough to bend



Like a tree out in the backyard



That never has been broken by the wind



Our love will last forever



If we\'re strong enough to bend--



---------



Woodman, spare that tree!



Touch not a single bough!



In youth it sheltered me,



And I\'ll protect it now.



\'Twas my forefather\'s hand



That placed it near his cot:



There, woodman, let it stand,



Thy axe shall harm it not!--Leslie Nelson-Burns



----------------------------



Quercus





The first three days of the convention were busy and pleasant. His companion, Tadeusz, was intelligent and well know in several circles. He was the youngest wandmaker to attain a license as official tester, and had already written a concise autobiography, in which he claimed to have created a wand for a certain, anonymous royal figure, whom he was not at liberty to name.



Edward wasn\'t certain if he believed him that far, but he was undoubtedly good. His wands were a bit floral however, burdened around the upper handles with fancy scrollwork. It did not appear to hinder the user though, as he learned on the fourth day when a room was set up specifically for everyone to test random wands.



Tadeusz\'s wand had a direct beam. Another wandmaker\'s main sample, though, had injured four bystanders, having an uncontrollable arc and a very jerky kick when casting.



By the evening of the fourth day, Edward could no longer concentrate for thinking of Amanda, and asked to borrow Tadeusz\'s owl. His companion had retrieved the bird with a somewhat knowing grin, and reassured him by saying that he had always worried what his wives were doing while he was away as well.



" Now, Mila, she is my fifth wife, and she is the best. Not the prettiest, but what a cook! I never have worry about her though." He held out his hands to indicate how large his wife was. " She is a big, strong woman! Which one is this one, your wife?"



" Second." Edward had answered stiffly.



Tadeusz had seemed surprised.



" Second wife. When was my second wife? I was twenty four. Her name was..." he frowned." How about that, I cannot even recall her name. There have been too many wives and sweethearts since then! " he laughed, white teeth flashing in the artificial light, and produced a Muggle wallet full of photographs, each containing a pretty woman. A picture of a brunette with large brown eyes and long legs bore the legend " Veronique" across the back, and Tadeusz exclaimed gleefully. " Veronique! That was her name. My Niqila. Wasn\'t she gorgeous?"



Edward responded politely. Tadeusz seemed to think it odd that the older man did not carry the picture\'s of his wives, but went on to show another set of photographs, these containing smiling, rosy cheeked children of varying ages. He counted five, but Tadeusz insisted it was six.



After this ritual, which he apparently performed with pride at every knew acquaintance, Tadeusz called for his owl, by using a small carved bone whistle around his neck.



" Here, this is Olga, she will take your letters to your sweetheart."



Olga looked more like a stone than an owl. She was a dusty grey, fat thing no taller than a hand. She had slightly crossed eyes, and looked at Edward with a mournful expression when he told her how far the letter was to be carried. She gave him another reprimanding look when she saw how heavy the letter was.



He had filled three sheets of parchment with random bits of nothing, describing his companion, the weather, a book on numerology and it\'s relationship to the length of certain wands. He had rolled into the parchment, a Muggle tourist pamphlet on Radom, with a beautiful, glossy photograph of an impressively decorated church on it\'s cover. This is what weighed down the parcel.



It took Olga three good tries to get off the ground. By the time she was somewhat airborne, the feathers on her rotund bottom had been mostly rubbed away by the table. She returned a few hours later carrying no answer. There was no cause for alarm though, as Crisp arrived only minutes behind her, looking more frazzled than usual. He carried Amanda\'s reply which answered all of his questions and assured him that she was fine, and enjoying the gossip and company of her relatives. She also said that Olga was \'tetchy\' and wouldn\'t carry an answer for her.



He noticed that Crisp, though always slightly ruffled, was puffed up enormously against the chilly air. The shot the fat grey owl a look of disbelief and indignation, before fixing Edward with an inquisitive expression. A slightly accusing, inquisitive expession.



" It isn\'t that cold." Edward informed him.



Crisp hooted skeptically.



" Yes, I know she\'s rude. Staring at her is only going to egg her on. " Crisp was obviously not pleased that Olga had refused to carry a letter for Amanda, thereby necessitating his journey forth into what he thought to be the polar regions of the universe.



Edward wrote a hasty note and attached it to Crisp\'s crunchy leg.



" There...now you can return to the warmth of home. Please return here tomorrow at six o clock."



He carried Crisp to the window, dreading to open the protective barrier of glass.



" Remember not to fly down the chimney." the owl was eccentric, and useful, but occasionally he had to be reminded of certain points of etiquette and safety. " And don\'t stand on the parlor furniture, you\'ve stepped in the ink well!"



Crisp hooted again, and made a clumsy start into the night sky.



------



Shortly after his departure, Tadeusz reappeared. He was flushed and excited, clutching a handful of crumpled fliers in one hand, and his case of wands in the other.



" Fala is here." he declared.



" Fala." Edward stated, closing the window.



Few ordinary Wizards knew the name, and even fewer were prepared to believe in the man. Fala. The great shaman. The man who claimed that his power came from talking to the trees before harvesting the wood from their branches. Like a Quibbler cover, he was permanently disputable, yet among wandmakers he retained a sort of cult hero status.



" Have you met him before?" Tadeusz seemed rather overcome, trembling as she shifted from foot to foot.



" Fala? No. No, I remember everyone I have ever met. Not he. I was under the impression that he did not come into the public these days. Not since the curse."



Tadeusz large eyes widened, and a few of the pamphlets slipped from his arms, fluttering to the floor at his feet.



" What was that? A curse?"



Edward could see that his companion desired a detailed, no doubt lurid account. He himself knew of the incident only from the wandmaker\'s periodical.



" I believe it was his rival. Yes...a rival. They were both racing to perfect a wand that could be used only by it\'s owner...and Fala apparently drew a little too close to success. The other Wizard blasted him with a memory charm from behind a podium, in...Vienna, I believe."



" Everyone is gathering in the atrium for his lecture." Tadeusz said. " He brought a tree."



" A real tree?"



" Yes. A whole tree. They were expanding the room earlier to make room for it. There is to be a demonstration." he held up one of the sheets of parchment, which showed the stern, noble face of the Native American Wizard. He held in his hand a palm size tree. A crow perched on his left shoulder, it\'s beady eye fixed at the photographer.



Edward pulled on his jacket. This was something he did not want to miss.



----



" The tree is a living being...it is your sister and your brother."



Edward and Tadeusz watched, enthralled. The atrium, which had been only an empty room the day before, was now equipped with a rows seats, and a stage. One could almost mistake it for a Muggle theater, save for the fact that the seats were all large, comfortable wingback armchairs upholstered in immaculate red velvet.



There was also a noticeable lack of wires, cables, and lights...the sound was magically amplified, the lighting produced by weird floating spheres with globes tinted in red and blue. In the center of the stage, a very impressive oak tree had been temporarily planted, it\'s branches extending so far as to canopy the persons seated in the front two rows. Under this tree stood Fala, a figure nearly as impressive as the tree itself.



His long, iron grey hair was loose, save for two braids at his temples. These were wrapped in brightly dyed pieces of leather, and decorated with the slender crow feathers.His robes were of a dusky buckskin color, heavily embroidered with magical and alchemical symbols of all cultures, with beadwork clackling soothingly at his wrists. Leather fringe fell from his sleeves to the floor creating a buttery waterfall effect whenever the spheres of light rotated behind him. On his shoulder sat the glossy, haughty crow, which would occasionally fan out it\'s wings as though preparing to take flight.



Edward ahd always heard that Fala was two-thirds hocus-pocus, and that his showmanship out-styled his workmanship, but at the moment he was just as utterly absorbed as Fala wanted him to be. A glance at his companion showed that he too, was mesmerized.



For the last half hour, they had listened, as Fala explained the tree in terms that re-awoke the mystery of nature. He described it\'s personality, it\'s heart, and it\'s desires to the few who had dared to appear.



" A wand needs no core, no herbs, no crystals...no unicorn hair." he said this pointedly, and several Wizards shifted uncomfortably. " The magic is in the tree itself, the wood. It is born of the mother earth, it is watered by the rain, nourished by the sun. It is a life."



He raised his arm in an arc, and the crow imitated him with his wings, brought them down, and pointed at Tadeusz.



" You...come to the tree, and lay your hands upon it\'s skin."



Tadeusz hastened shyly toward the stage, the first time that Edward had seen the other man somewhat subdued. As he clambered awkwardly up, Fala gestured to the tree.



" Go ahead, touch it."



Tadeusz did so. Edward wondered suddenly, what he felt? Was it merely cool, rough oak bark? Or did it have that unmistakable thrum that would eventualize each time a ordinary, dead object became charged with magic. His own palm tingled. A brief glance to his right showed the others of the audience also rubbing their hands long their robes. One auburn haired woman at the end, he recognized her as Maple Van Tessman, was looking with undisguised interest at her palm, and scribbling notes in a notebook bound in blue-dyed arctic fox fur.



Seeing him, she grinned, tapping her quill against her teeth. She was quite an anomaly, as she wore Muggle braces, and always had, as long as Edward could remember. They glinted disturbingly in the fake lightning, reflecting both pink and blue, and a hybrid purple.



Edward knew her father, and mother, Johann and Ramona Van Tessman. Very dedicated if not obsessive wandmakers, who had named all of their fourteen offspring after trees. Maple\'s most famous quote, after writing her first book, had been that she was less fortunate than her sister Willow, but ever more so than her brother Buxus, whom she assumed was her mother\'s least favorite. Whether or not the Van Tessman children despised their parents for the unfortunate nomenclature, Maple was certainly the only one who had gone on to make wands.



" Can you feel that?" she mouthed glinting at him. He gave only a curt nod in reply, as Tadeusz was now being asked to snap a branch from the tree. He seemed reluctant to do so, his face reflecting the same sort of vague repugnance it might if he had been asked to knock a fish in the head, just to see it shudder. He gasped aloud when Fala took his hand, and guided him to a small, straight twig just within reach.



" Break it away." he commanded, and Tadeusz did so. The snap was vividly audible, and everyone winced.



" Now, use it."



" Use it?"



Fala smiled patiently, and performed a sweeping gesture with his arm. The crow shifted, and ruffled it\'s feathers, indignantly.



" Use it. Make a spell."



" Oh! Yes of course!\' Tadeusz laughed, embarrassed. He pointed the wand at the floor, and made a complicated series of wrist movements, meant to create a colored lines on a surface. Nothing happened, and there was a soft whisper as the audience released a collective breath.



" I...I\'m sorry." Tadeusz apologized, offering the twig back.



" No need to be sorry. \' Fala took the twig. " This can be made into a wand. It can be bored out, and filled with a magical substance. It can then be capped, carved, sanded, stained, and at last polished. The maker\'s magic strongly influencing and possibly overpowering the wood itself. "



He carefully set the piece aside on his worktable, the pointed to the tree again.



" Now, this time, ask the tree\'s permission."



" I beg your pardon?"



" Think of the tree, like a woman..."



Maple tilted her head and gazed, with raised brows over the rim of her tortoiseshell glasses.



" You don\'t touch a woman without her permission." Fala said.



Edward commended Tadeusz on not arguing this point.



" Ask permission. Stroke the branch, coax...explain what you need." he guided Tadeusz\'s hand back to the tree.



After a moment\'s bashfulness and a slight shrug, Tadeusz began to caress the branch, while murmuring in a low dulcet tone on his native language.



Edward could not make out the words himself, but he could see from Fala\' expression that he was satisfied. Anyone else might have tried a little humor then, said a few funny words to get a giggle later on as they told the tale, but Tadeusz was not so crass. He became completely absorbed in what hew as doing...never noticing when Fala began a low chanting in his throat. The sound washed over the crowd in a tidal wave of comfort, soothing them even as it raised gooseflesh on their arms.



Tadeusz needed no more instruction. He ran his hands along the branch as though massaging someone\'s leg, palms inward, fingers straight and stiff. His head was thrown back, and his eyes were closed. When he reached the next twig, he encircled it gently, and with a small nod, broke it off into his hand. The sound of wood snapping was complimented by the short burst of silver sparks from it\'s end.



There was a soft thump as Maple\'s notebook slid from her lap to the top of her shoes.



Tadeusz opened his eyes and examined the wand with reverent awe. Then, without having to be goaded, he brought it up, waved it around, and declared, " Expecto Patronum."



Everyone ducked and exclaimed as a large, silvery boar shot over their heads, and disappeared into the darkness of the empty atrium. After a moment of silence, there was applause. Maple seemed the most generous, and was possessed of very loud hands, thus drawing Tadeusz\'s attention to herself. She granted him a look that went somewhat beyond professional admiration.



Tadeusz returned to his seat, still clutching the stick, while Fala concluded his lecture. Edward wouldn\'t have asked, but Tadeusz offered the wand for his examination. Much as he expected, the wood felt alive. It did more than simply vibrate though, it practically writhed.



" Incredible." he said.



The spheres of light suddenly vanished, and the overhead lights returned, blinding everyone temporarily. The demonstration was at an end, however everyone was perfectly welcome to step up and take wood from the tree to study. Edward was making his way to the table, passing by two gentlemen who scoffed at the whole show as being a cheap effect, when Maple overtook him.



" Where is your friend?" she asked breathlessly.



" Just behind." he answered. She had her wand stuck through her hair, and her glasses now perched on top of her head.



" Oh yes. I see. Well, wasn\'t that a show?"



" Do you believe in it?"



" Well...yes." she nodded. " Don\'t you?"



" I\'ve been an admirer for years."



" Ah yes. " She tapped his sleeve with her quill. " I see the similarities in doctrine. That paper you wrote on how wands chose the wizards."



" I\'m flattered. You read my paper? My greatest rival in England?"



" Ah, now you flatter me!" she said. " And anyway, we aren\'t any of us rivals here! Except perhaps that Jace Bollinger. I\'ve never liked him."



" Yes, rather unethical, isn\'t he." they regarded a haughty young man carelessly handling the wands on Fala\'s table.



" This younger generation. They think we are too old...and I think they are to impetuous."



" Not to mention absurd!" Tadeusz exclaimed joining the circle. " I just saw a young wandmaker trying to sell wands over twenty inches long, claiming that length was the fashion of the future. "



" Are we fencing or dueling with these wands?" Maple laughed.



" I don\'t believe we have been introduced?" Tadeusz said, granting her a heart-melting smile.



" Maple Van Tessman." she offered her hand.



" Tadeusz. And we don\'t need surnames." he kissed her knuckles.



" Very well. Now, why don\'t you walk with me and tell me all about these foppish new wands, and about that marvelous demonstration earlier."



They excused themselves to Edward, who barely noticed, as he had just seen Fala gesture to him. As his two companions made their way arm in arm around the atrium, which was filling with people once more, Edward continued on to the table. Fala nodded for him to step to the side of the stage curtain with him, and set the crow to watch over the loiterers.



Edward, who usually had no difficulty in finding something to say at all times, was strangely silent, and felt comfortable being silent, as if it were the proper thing to do. Fala leaned close, smelling of leather and herbs.



" You are the little English wandmaker." he said. " Yes I know you. They say that you are the best, the ones who buy your wands. They say that you treat the wand as a living creature, with thoughts. That is very respectful."



\' It is an instinct. The way I believe!" Edward said, as though defending himself.



" Good." Fala seized his had suddenly and pressed something into his palm. " Give it to her, tell her to keep it close, and she\'ll have no more troubles. It will be easy."



" Who?"



" The red haired woman. Your wife."



" My wife? How do you know about my wife?"



" I learn a lot about people from listening to their souls talk. I saw in a trance yesterday, that you would be here, and that i would give this to you. All this week, I\'ve seen a vision of her, and knew she needed this." he tapped the object.



Edward looked down into his hand, It was just a square leather bag, tied at the top with a rawhide string. A beadwork sun graced the front.



" What is it?"



" Protection. She still has nightmares. Ushta, she tells me so. She is a spirit messenger. Not just a familiar." he jutted his chin at the crow. " She\'ll know it is good magic...this woman. It\'s in her blood. Tell her...tell her to never open it. Just keep it close. She\'ll need it, in the future."



Then Fala handed Edward one of the tree wands, and with a whistle to the crow, he began to walk away.



Edward remembered just in time to call out a thanks. The Indian nodded sagely, then vanished into the crowd.



----------------------------------------------------------------------------



Strong Enough to Bend-Lyrics, Don Schlitz/Beth Nielson Chapman



Quercus--the genus to which the mighty oak belongs. Oak is the tree belonging to the gods of thunder. It is the strongest tree, symbolic of protection, longevity, and life-force.