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chapter two
The place was a deathtrap. It couldn't just be me that saw it. On the outside, it was tall, slender, and for lack of a better word, rickety. On the inside, the walls were stacked floor to ceiling with narrow, rectangular boxes. I pulled the door close, the fear that a strong gust of wind would send the walls tumbling around me, pulling at the back of my mind. I walked forward, my footsteps echoing around the silent room. On the desk there was a small bell, sitting amongst the discarded boxes and some funny looking tools that I wasn't sure were used for. With nobody in sight, I rang the bell, the chime cutting through the silence like a knife.
"Hello there, I am Mr. Ollivander, a pleasure to see you!" A voice chirped from over my shoulder, I spun quickly. An old man was high on a ladder, appearing suddenly down a corridor of wooden boxes. The old, grey-haired man is smiling warmly at me, though seems to glance over me, studying me. When his eyes click into recognition, he scrambles down the ladder and shuffles across the floor, stopping behind the desk. He places his hands on the desk and stares intently at me. "You would be here for a new wand I imagine Miss... what are they calling you these days?"
"Elora Cram...?" I answered, hesitantly. It was obvious this was not the first time I had been here, though I suspected from the way the man glanced over my should at the empty space behind me, that it was the first time I'd been there alone. Christina had attempted to come with me, but after having her tail me all day, pulling me away from anywhere that looked even remotely interesting. Since last night's encounter with Dumbledore and Pomfrey, she seemed to be walking on eggshells around me. She hadn't asked me any questions or scolded me for running like I did. I reached down into my shoulder bag, feeling for the fabric wrappings my old wand was still in. "I uh, I brought this... I thought maybe you could reuse...?"
He unwraps the wand from its casing, tutting as he looks over the shattered pieces. "Willow," he frowns, my heart shrinking at the tone. I'd hope that if at least part of my old wand was in my new one, it would be familiar to me and I'd suddenly remember my magic, my life, myself. "It's unyielding, but when happy become quite loyal. This wand, however, seems to have lost that loyalty when it was broken. I'm afraid it will not serve you well if I mend it."
I nodded my head bitterly, my shoulders slumping slightly as the wandmaker turn his back to me. He reached upwards, plucking a box off the shelf and offering it to me. "Let's start with a similar wand," he lifted the lift off the box, offering me another wand that I imagine resembled my own before it had been split in three. Taking the wand into my hand, I flicked it, waiting for something spectacular to happen. To my own disappointment, nothing happened. "No worries, no worries, plenty of wands to go through."
