Holly and Phoenix feather.

Over Fifty years. Fifty! That's how long I've been stuck in this box, gathering dust in the back room of Ollivander's, listening while hundreds of little brats prance through here buying whatever shiny twig that happens to catch their puny little eyes! These new wands, it makes me sick (Figuratively speaking of course) most of them haven't even been around for a single bloody decade! And yet, is seems every John, Mark and Mary that comes in to this god forsaken place leaves with one of them, each hunk of wood pulling off some glittering miniature light show for effect. It's PATHETIC! 'The wand chooses the Wizard' Bah! I wouldn't care if the next kid that picked me up was a squib! I just want out of this damned box!

I swear, just thinking about it sometimes is enough to drive me nutty. It's not like there are many options around here for a wand like me, the old man decided years ago that I was, quote: 'Too dangerous for any normal child'. Me, Dangerous. Ha! What am I going to do? Light the buggers trousers on fire?... Actually scratch that, once upon a time (When I was still kept up front with all the other hot commodities) A rather dumb looking boy came in, after the welp had tried a few dozen wands, the old geezer brought out me, told the boy I was 'unique' (Yeah right, he wanted me out of there just as much then as I do now!) I remember the kid was so nervous, that when Ollivander held out my box, the boy grabbed me by the wrong end, and swished me! I wasn't sure what to do so I shot a little bit of static at his nose. ...Not a lot mind you, just enough to teach him a lesson in wand handling... To bad a second later the boy dropped me on the floor and nearly stepped on my tip as he ran back to his mummy. Needless to say, the boy ended up with some other wand, and I went back to my home sweet box.

I do regret the way I treated most of them, the kids that came and took me out of my box. Not that there were many... Honestly, in a little over fifty years I've only been held by sixteen wizards, and with one of them being Qllivander himself and another some school teacher, that leaves fourteen. Fourteen kids that each held my ticket out of this dusty old shop. Fourteen kids that I burned, stung, momentarily blinded, and all around ruined any chance I had of freedom. Fourteen kids in Fifty years, well... forty if you count the fact that my box hasn't even been opened in the last ten.

But none of that matters any more, from now on I'm on my best behavior, I don't care what the next kid who holds me is like, they're going to get the best wand ever made! ...As long as their palms don't sweat... And preferably if they're not a quidditch player (They tend to leave their wands in their pockets when they fly, and I do not want to be dropped form a hundred feet in the air, thank you very much!) And you know what? Forget about the squib thing, I want to at least cast a few spells... And as long as they're not a girl, I do NOT want to spend the rest of their life casting beauty charms and hair care spells. But asides from all that, I could care less about what the next brat is like. Once I'm out of this box, I'm never getting back in.

(A/N, This was for a my ten minute a day writing challenge I started for myself, as the first Fan fiction-y one I decided to post it, its un-beta-ed and honestly to god a awful piece of work, but who cares?!)