The Wand Chooses the Wizard! (open)

The lanky eleven year old strode in, the bell on the door chiming merrily. Her neck craning to look over her shoulder. She turned it back to the direction she was walking as the door tinkled shut. The man before her was older than anyone in her family, maybe alive or deceased, she realized. He had wild white hair- very long and unkempt like a lion mane- and a very wrinkly face that looked like it'd seen many harsh years. She lifted her head and shook it in amazement- the room was enormous! The walls seemed to be made of the numerous boxes that sat in the shelves all around the room, and Sierra could see that the shelves reached far into the back of the shop, presumably with many more boxes.

The girl slowly strode up to the counter and looked up at the man, her short blonde hair falling away from her face and away from her blazing blue eyes. This close the girl could see every line and wrinkle on the mans face, she began to count them- but lost count and interest at about twenty seven and decided to look up into his aged, wise, silver eyes that seemed to be staring off into space but also be firmly rooted to reality. She scratched her small nose awkwardly and the sleeve of the oversized grey sweater she was wearing fell down to her elbow, when she dropped her hand it fell back and swallowed her hand whole. The girl swallowed and began to speak;

" 'Morning Sir. I-I..." She trailed off, at a loss for words, formalities were not her forte she was better with spontaneous laughter and jokes. "I've come to purchase a wand." She finished more confidently, the man wasn't going to hurt her- he was a shopkeeper who just wanted to make a living selling his wands!

The morning was going quite well and Ollivander had been very pleased with his sales. The first of August always seemed to be the busiest time for wand shopping, which was quite reasonable - Muggleborns would just be learning about their wizardry, halfbloods and purebloods would be receiving their letters, and it was exactly one month before the start of term at Hogwarts. Provided with a brief lull in customers, Ollivander had finished off a bratwurst with mustard and was standing at the counter digesting it when another new face walked in. He smiled warmly at the young girl as she approached the counter and eventually made clear what Ollivander had already known - she was here to purchase a wand.

"Well a wand is an excellent place to purchase here, and here you'll find the best wands to purchase," he replied casually. "No need for nerves, my dear, this is a rite of passage all witches and wizards have to go through. We'll take your measurements and see what wand best fits you."

As he got out his measuring tape and set it to stretching along Sierra's limbs and back, he chewed on his thumb for a minute and then snapped his fingers. "A Finnigan. That's who you are. You must be Sean's youngest. He was more nervous than you are when he came in for his first wand, what was it, thirty-four years ago today? My goodness. Ash and kelpie mane, thirty and a half centimetres, surprisingly bouncy. And now of course he's a fellow wandmaker, is he not? Funny how things happen that way." He watched the measuring tape for another minute and then said, "Very good," snapped his fingers again and caught the measuring tape as it rolled itself back up and launched itself toward his palm.

"I've a few ideas and they're all within arm's reach," Ollivander told Sierra as he went back behind the counter and grabbed two boxes off one shelf, and a third from under the counter. "One of these should be ideal for you."

On the front of the counter toward Sierra he placed three boxes. First he opened Box № 31483 and took out a medium-coloured wand with a whimsical, unpatterned shape. "This one is oak and billiwig stinger, thirty-eight centimetres." He placed it back in the box, took the second box labelled Box № 33508, and carefully showed off the winding wand inside to Sierra, saying, "Dogwood and phoenix feather, thirty-two and one-fifth centimetres." Lastly he returned the dogwood wand, which he knew was quite mischievous itself, to its box, and then lifted a straight conical wand with carved lace curves in the handle out of Box № 35199. "Larch and coral, thirty-two and two-fifths centimetres." He replaced this one as well and told Sierra, "Go ahead, dear, give each one a wave and see what you think."

The man had seen right through her- she was very nervous. Then whilst her measured her, he had read her like a book. He knew her dad- he knew his wand- he knew her dad's job- he knew who she was and it freaked her out a bit. But then the man turned around and took three options from the shelf behind him, pulling each wand out of it's box before carefully placing it back inside it's box whilst describing each to her.

• Oak and billiwig stinger, 38 cm


• Dogwood and phoenix feather, 32 ^1/5 cm


• Larch and coral, 32 ^2/5 cm

She scanned each wand in turn and then all of them at once- deciding on the light coloured body of the larch and coral wand. She picked it up and felt her hand wrap uncomfortably around the base. The girl looked up at the man before her and gave the wand a small swish. The wand was clearly unhappy with it's holder and flew out of her hand and back onto the counter before her. Covering up her embarrassment the girl picked up the beautifully crafted dogwood wand and examined it, rolled it between her fingers and got a good hold on it before waving it and setting her own sleeve on fire.

"What the-!?" The girl exclaimed as she bat her sleeve out with her other hand.

She decided against the dogwood wand and picked up the last wand, hoping that it would be the wand for her. She ran her fingers up the body of the wand and wrapped her fingers around the handle, they fit perfectly and comfortably. This has to be the one! She thought hopefully to herself- nothing could fit this perfect and not like her. So with a new surge of hope blooming in her chest, the girl gave the wand an elegant and graceful wave, seemingly controlled by the wand in her hand. As the wand swished through the air a line of blue and purple sparks followed her progress, dissolving into nothing seconds after their creation.

The girl stared in awe at the magical stick in her hand- a crude way to put it, but reality none the less. Her eyes searched it's surface in amazement, she'd had no hope or finding the wand after her previous two attempts, but there it was, in her hand. It felt like a hardy wand in her grasp, a wand that could withstand a lot, that would be useful with an owner as clumsy as she was. The girl looked up from the wand after a few moments of gazing lovingly at it, and she looked up at the beaming man above her.

Patiently and without judgment, Garrick observed the results of the wands being tested in front of him. The larch wand rejected Sierra instantly - uncommon, but not unheard of in his long years of making and selling wands. It landed on the counter in front of him and the young girl immediately turned her attention to the next wand, while Garrick calmly placed the larch wand back into its box and put the lid on it. He had just taken his hand off of it when an exclamation from Sierra drew his attention to her flaming sleeve. She was already batting it out and it was putting itself out anyway as only a magical fire could do, and Garrick couldn't say he was surprised. Dogwood wands were quirky and mischievous.

The fit and feel of the oak wand was obviously much to Sierra's liking, and Sierra was obviously much to the wand's liking as it produced a lovely stream of violet and blue sparks, a variation on the Mico charm. Sierra's face was awestruck as she looked at the wand for several seconds before turning her attention back to the shopkeeper.

"Well I think it's pretty clear that we've found our winner," Mr. Ollivander smiled, putting one of the remaining boxes under the counter and then setting the other unchosen one back on the shelf behind him. "Oak is a very demanding wand wood, so treat it well and its loyalty will be yours forever." He turned back to Sierra and said, "That will be seven Galleons, my dear. Unless you would also like to purchase a wand care kit, but to be fair I imagine your father can provide you with one as well."

He opened the cash register in preparation for the transaction and asked as an afterthought, "Would you like me to package that up for safekeeping, or do you want to carry it out?"

It took Sierra several tries to make words. "Packaging it up I think would be better." She told the man before handing her wand over reluctantly for the man to put it in the only box still lying open on the counter.

As the man packaged up the wand that had chosen her, Sierra fumbled in her pocket to produce seven round gold coins, the currency that magical folk called 'Galleons'. She placed them on the counter in between her and the man before sliding the box, that held her wand so securely, into her hands. She held the box firmly and gave the man one last smile and a small "thank you" before trotting out the door into the Diagon Alley street in front of the old shop and giving it one last look before trotting away again.

It was such a pleasure to watch the joy and excitement that Sierra felt meeting her very own personal wand, the emotion clear across her face and in her hesitation before asking the wand to be boxed up. Garrick nodded in understanding as he gently and deftly placed the wand back in the box, replaced the presentation top with a padded storage top, cut a length of ribbon from the roll to the side of the counter, and tied a bow over the box. He slid the box across the counter to her with one hand while he used his other hand and counted out the seven large golden coins that Sierra placed on the counter. She was so excited, she could barely manage a 'thank you' before running out the door with her new personal treasure. Not that Garrick minded.

Heaving a deep sigh of contentment, he swept the Galleons off of the counter into a cupped hand and deposited them in the enchanted cash register against the wall. At just that moment the clock on the wall chimed, and a wooden replica of a baby occamy popped out of its eggshell and whistled twelve times before popping back inside a door of the clock. "Good heavens, noon already!" Garrick exclaimed. "Lunch break for this old fool." He gave a seemingly careless wave of his wand, the front door of the shop locked and the sign that said "WELCOME, WE ARE OPEN" twisted itself into "LUNCH - BACK IN AN HOUR."

Before creaking his way upstairs to sandwiches and tea with his wife and children, he looked around lovingly at the stacks and stacks of wands. It always looked the same to him - as if their family always made just as many wands as they sold. Always piled high and being moved around, the boxes of Ollivander wands were like more of his children. All he wanted was for them to be happily matched with the right person. For every young wizard or witch that walked through that door and purchased a wand, Ollivander felt like - and knew - he had changed a life in a good way. "I must be getting old," he smiled, clutching the bannister and starting his way up to the kitchen. "I sound quite sappy."



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Thank you so much to everyone who helped me break Mr. Ollivander in with this thread!
As it takes place in August 2000 and we are now in October, I am going to conclude the thread on this note.
If anyone wants or needs Garrick to make an appearance, just shoot a PM to me. ^_^

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