A short exhale blew the shavings away from the wood’s surface. The wand’s pattern was simple: a series of crosshatched etchings that encircled the handle, providing additional grip on the fine-grained sycamore shaft. She did not consider herself an artist; her wands were ugly, inelegant things crafted for ugly, inelegant people. Her creativity was better applied to theoretical problems, not physical design. Still, it was a living.