Gingerly, Barnabas received his snapped wand. He pressed it protectively against his chest. It would have been embarrassing to look mournful in front of the stranger, so instead he arranged his face in a stoic glare. The man disappeared up the stairs. Barnabas took the time to inspect his wand more closely. He'd had it since his first year at Hogwarts. It had been routinely polished, but that didn't keep it from forming grooves from where his fingers had worn the wood down. It had seen him through many misadventures.

The stairs creaked beneath the weight of someone descending them. Quickly, he wiped away a tear at the corner of his eye, determined not to let out a sniffle.