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Mayblossom went on to explain that the common witch or wizard usually specialised in only one branch of magic, one that usually ran in the family. Because of this, most saw no reason to purchase a personal wand, especially not a proper one like from Ollivanders that was capable of performing magic of all types.
Instead, they stuck to specialised foci, things made to work specific types of magic. They either bought them, made their own, or used ones that had been handed down for generations. Heri had been intrigued at the notion of specialised foci.
Mayblossom indulged Heri's curiosity by showing her around a shop known for its quality. Heri smiled at Mayblossom and looked over the lengths of decorated wood in her hands.
"Are these supposed to be wands?"
Heri took one of the thin sticks. It was much like a chopstick save for the coloured wire coiled at the handle and the polished stone capping the end. It was quite pretty; decorative without being showy.
"I thought the point of coming here was to get something besides a wand." "Well, there's not much point in that, is there?"
Mayblossom shrugged. "You already have a wand so anything you might get would be unnecessary anyway. Since it's all the same, why not?" "A secondary focus would come in handy in a pinch," Heri retorted.
"There's nothing unnecessary about it." "Oooh, why are so serious all the time?" Mayblossom complained. She reached up and pinned up one side of Heri's hair with the other skinny wand.
"Have some fun, you stroppy thing! We already know these will be useful so why not focus on what will look prettiest on you?" Heri eventually conceded the point and ended up an assortment of the foci in the form of grips, pins, bracelets, and the like.
Most of them were one-use only and disposable, but she figured that if she was attacked again as she was coming to expect to happen, she would always have at least something in reach since it was expected that a girl would wear accessories.
The ones that she expected greater use from were the single-purpose wands; she had learned that even though they weren't capable of magic beyond O.W.L.s level they lasted as long as they weren't broken and they weren't tagged with the Trace like proper wands were either. Heri got a wand for every purpose the shop had available:
Transfiguration; Charms; Divination; offensive magic; defensive magic; healing spells; protective spells; the works.
After taking in the sight of herself with her hair pinned up by several wands-turned-hairsticks, she figured that this was an occasion wherein having long, sheep-like curls was actually a benefit. Summer ended with little fanfare.
Beyond a singular afternoon wherein the Minister of Magic had found her and made a great show of being relieved she was alive — since it came out that she was the likeliest target for that criminal godfather of hers who was on the run (she no longer had it in her to be surprised) — she did little more than mill around the Alleys, read up on her new electives, and finish up her school shopping.
Heri strolled through the length of the train, smoothing down the front of her uniform with a careful hand. It was a new uniform; she had actually done some growing over the summer.
Well, the blouse and over-robes were new, her skirts from first-year still fit. They were starting to get short though. She would have gotten new skirts as well, but she really didn't have the patience to stand around being measured when what she had still fit.
She had grown noticeably from last year. It seemed that when she wasn't looking, her body had decided to start climbing out of childhood. She was still short, but at least she was nearer to five feet than before; the clothes-maker in Diagon said she was four feet and eleven inches, a whole three inches taller than before.
She wasn't quite certain, but it looked to her that her hips and bottom had gained width and definition. That might have been from the Quidditch training though. If worst came to worst and she grew enough during the year that her skirts became indecent, she'd just visit the clothier in Hogsmeade. Speaking of growing . . . Heri slid open door to Marcus' compartment and bounced in.
She closed the door with a click and beamed at those within. What remained of last year's Slytherin Quidditch team was present along with Lucian and Graham, and all were sending her peeved looks for interrupting them during their scheming, but Heri ignored them in favour of her favourite person.
"Marcus, Marcus, look!" Heri cried. She cupped her breasts proudly. "I had to buy new bras this summer! Soon they'll be as big as the ones you ogle on the older girls!" Her breasts really were the crowning glory of her summer growth-spurt (at least, in her adolescent opinion).
Instead of the training camisoles she had been wearing since first-year, she now fit into proper bras; the lady at the shop said Heri really should have started wearing them sooner because, at the rate she was growing, she'd be wearing a b-cup at the end of the school year. Marcus' eyes widened in alarm.
Unbelievably, his cheeks glowed red as his eyes were drawn by the motion of Heri's hands. He caught one good look before he could stop himself and then promptly buried his face in his hands, muttering about going to Hell. "HERI!" Lucian exclaimed, bolting up and yanking her arms up (and consequentially removing her hands from her breasts).
His head looked like it was about to explode, his face was that red. "What in Merlin's name—?! You can't just—! You don't—! And YOU LOT!" — here he spun around like a madman and pointed thunderously at the rest of them — "GET YOUR FILTHY EYES OFF HER! WHO THE FUCK SAID YOU COULD KEEP LOOKING?!" Graham frantically shoved two of the other boys into each other, banging their heads together, and then there was a scrabble of yelps, turning around, and eye-covering.