The Wandmaker

The Oil Painting

C H A P T E R f o u r

End of year exams were looming closer and closer, but Symbida didn't seem to be worrying or fretting. She was confident she would pass, and would probably get a high mark.

But secretly she was extremely nervous. Now that she was being shunned for being a muggleborn, to her, the exams mattered twice as much. Although they'd probably insist that she was cheating, she still wanted to come out on top of the class, to see the looks on their faces as they were beaten by a 'mud-blood'.

Tahli had made it her personal goal to try and make her life miserable after Symbida had revealed that she was muggleborn and then accused her of being jealous of her brains. She had formed a sort of informal club or association devoted to hating muggleborn witches and wizards and, in a strike of 'genius' (which Symbida suspected wasn't even her original idea) she had come up with a list of names to throw at her at every possible moment, including 'fake witch', the classic 'mudblood' and various others.

But each time Tahli hurled an insult at Symbida, she would smile sarcastically or act completely unfazed and continue on her way. Tahli got angrier every time she would ignore the comments. The last thing that Symbida wanted to do was react to the horrid insults, because then Tahli and all of her posse would know that the insults hurt. And they did hurt. They hurt so much. But she couldn't let it show.

Symbida had completed her page and a half essay for Transfiguration homework so she was taking advantage of the spare time. She had so much free time without friends, so Symbida made up a funny little poem that she was singing as she strolled around the corridors in the afternoon before dinner.

"I said I was a muggleborn
And now they look at me with scorn.
But their efforts are all worn,
They never know they hurt me.

Though I don't even have a friend,
I cannot see a bitter end.
'Cause me, they cannot break or bend.
Their bully skills are rusty.

They're dogs, but they won't get a bone,
'Cause I refuse to whinge or moan.
I'm actually better off alone
There's nobody to bug me."

Singing to herself softly, she rounded a corner.

"Why don't you have any friends?"

Symbida stopped singing abruptly, nervous that Tahli or her 'friends' had heard her admitting the magnitude that the effects of their insults caused.

Glancing around, she noticed that she was looking along one of the many corridors of the school. Large glass-less windows opened out towards Hogmeade, though the town itself was obscured by a grassy hill. A soft breeze was wafting through the windows, ruffling her hair and stirring up a few crinkled leaves littered along the expanse of corridor. However, the only things close enough to be within hearing distance and possibly capable of talking was a suit of armour and an oil painting of a Japanese cherry blossom tree.

Knowing that the armour could only talk if someone was in it, she walked over, stretched onto her toes, lifted the visor and peered down.

Empty.

She turned to the oil painting. Since she walked around the school quite a lot, she knew that paintings could talk and move around. This oil painting, however, she hadn't ever come across before. The picture was of a cherry blossom tree in full bloom, the branches arching gracefully, full of beautiful soft pink petals. In the distance Symbida could see a quaint lake bordered with reeds and a small mountain painted in diverse greens and greys.