Tracey Davis and the Prisoner of Azkaban—Part 3

Tracey had heard the fairy tale of the Peverell who woke up with a Deathly Hallow under his pillow. She was old enough to know that sort of thing never happened to witches and wizards in real life.

Tracey closed the blinds around her four-poster bed. She carefully slid the guitar out from below her bed and placed it on top. At least, she thought it was a guitar. It had the head and neck of a guitar but the body was unlike anything Tracey had ever seen. Instead of a big hollow drum to resonate sound, the guitar had a bright red lacquered V-shape with three knobs. The back was engraved “Gibson Flying V2”.

It was the most beautiful thing. Tracey plucked at a string but no sound came out. That made sense since the guitar lacked a reverberation chamber. This wasn’t just a guitar. It was a magical guitar. That was even better than an Invisibility Cloak. What was the point of clothes if nobody could see you wearing them?

Sonorus,” Tracey whispered.

Tracey picked at the string again.

“BZAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRN!”

“Aaaahhhhhhhhh,” Daphne Greengrass screamed.

“What was that?” said Lily Lu.

“Nothing,” said Tracey.

“If nothing happens again then you’ll be sleeping in the lake,” said Lily.

Tracey felt like a real witch. She vanished the wrapping paper. Tracey placed the magical artifact of incredible power back in its case, cuddled up against it and went to sleep.