He gave the lad a commiserating smile—a good wand was worth its wielder's weight in gold, and the bond between wand and wizard ran deep. To have to give that up was not unlike giving up one's spouse, sibling, or child (it might have been all three, in Gervaise' own case). With a nod, he set about retrieving some wands for trial, presenting the first to the wizard.

"Willow, nine inches, with a unicorn tail hair."