Working as he did in a profession that saw as many children among its customers as adults, Gideon was used to childish antics. He recognized Billie's tone as baiting, and gave her a quick warning look; she might do as she pleased when out and about, but while she was in the shop he expected some modicum of professionalism. Before he could say anything to her on the subject, though, his attention was drawn to Mr. Fletcher and his latest wand.

For a child to point a wand at anyone was dangerous. For Mr. Fletcher to do so in an aggressive fashion using a poorly matched wand could have been disastrous. Gideon snatched the apple wand away from him, finding it difficult to entirely hide his anger. The wand might have only made a disappointing noise, but what had happened was besides the point. Far worse things could have happened. Billie might have found herself dodging a fireball or dealing with a life-threatening wound, because of this boy's careless disregard for the consequences of his actions.

"Mister Fletcher," Gideon said sternly. "I will not have you pointing wands at anyone in my shop. You might have done serious damage without thinking it through. If you act irresponsibly again, I haven't the slightest qualm about sending you home today empty-handed," he warned.

He took a moment to replace the apple wand in the box, then set it aside to be reshelved later. He felt tired, suddenly; scolding children wasn't something he enjoyed, even if in this case it had been necessary.

"Billie," he called wearily. "Fetch the holly and dragon heartstring wand, please. Eleven and three-quarter inches."