He offered her a stained smile before excusing himself for the stacks of shelves, biting back a reiteration of the wand chooses the witch. Gervaise knew that any sort of conversation was unlikely to budge the stubborn woman, and would only prolong his own pains. At least she had given him something to go on.

When he returned, it was with three wands, and he offered the first to her.

"This is also dogwood and hippogriff feather, eleven inches," the wandmaker informed her. With any luck, something along the same lines as her original wand would do the trick and he could be swiftly rid of her.