I bought a fancy wand when I already had a wand. It was a wooden dowel from Wal-Mart which I cut and whittled smooth. I bought a woodstain pen in the right hue and stained it a beautiful ash. It's plain, untapered, and the ends aren't perfect, but it's the right length and it weighs well in my hand and it's mine. It's always been mine.
But I was in the merch room and they had these fancy wands out, with tapered ends and special braided-twine grips and one of those felt pretty good in my hand, so I bought it. Packing to come home, though, I laid it on the bed, forgot, and sat on it. It snapped in two.
I have an ordinary wand and a broken fancy wand, and yet I've never had magic. Not then and not now. Never, really.
I don't know why this makes me so sad.