Chapter 14

A magic wand…this was the part that Harry and I had been really looking forward to, because it was like we were now officially wizards

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 381 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as we stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. I felt strangely as though I had entered a very strict library, just the tension aloe was enough to make a normal human sweat with awkwardness, I swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to me, like, what was would I get? As what would it be best at?, and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of my neck neck sprinkled a little. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic, I was very fascinated with this.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry and I jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before us, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Hi" I said, less awkwardly.

I

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes, I thought I'd be seeing you two soon. Harry Potter... Sirius Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes young Harry. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to me as if inspecting me.

"You on the other hand, young Sirius, have your fathers eyes, filled with mischief, he favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration..." he paused for a second "Well, I say your father favored it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course" he said in a ' I'll leave it at that' sort of tone.

Mr. Ollivander had come so close to me that he and I, were almost nose to nose. Harry, feeling very uncomfortable, coughed a little, trying to break the silence.

"And that... That's where…" Mr. Olivander touched the lightning scar on my forehead with a long, white finger. Then he looked over to Harry's.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…well, if I'd known what the wand was going out into the world to do…." He shook his head and then, to my relief, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again….Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er – yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now – Mr. Potter... Mr. Potter" he said a little awkward, probably unsure of whether or not to call us by our first names or not, "Let me see." He pulled a large tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?" he asked harry

"Er – well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful substance, Harry. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry suddenly realizing that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own, stiffened a little then smiled, while Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Harry Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try –"

Harry tried – but he had hardly risen the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no – here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well…how curious…how very curious…"

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious…curious…"

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather in is you wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you and your brother those scars."

Harry swallowed. "Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember….I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter….After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander tuned to me.

"Now... On to the other Potter..." he sad to himself in a barely audible tone.

He went through the same process with me. But it seems to last a lot longer than it did with harry. Ollivander, seeming to get a little frustrated at the lack of cooperation, suddenly rushed into the back as if having an epiphany.

When he returned some time later he had a very dusty, very old box in his hands.

"This... Was a wand my father made in his later years... A very odd combination... Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow... The core on the other hand, is, like your brother Harry, Phoenix Feather. The Phoenix that branded this feather, belonged to a very old, very powerful wizard, my father came across this Phoenix and was granted a faster for saving its masters life... I had been hoping to hold onto this want a little longer, and if it does choose you ill be very sad to see it go, but have doubt... That you, will be as masterful in your spell casting as that same wizard who owned the Phoenix was" he than handed me the wand.