𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ~ 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄

In my books, today could easily be counted as the best day in my eleven years of life; Though looking back on it, it was a little disappointing to recall most of it being a blur.

The distinct appearance of the goblins running Diagon Alley's famous bank was already starting to slip my mind, but I knew that I'd never forget the way the air shimmered and rippled around one goblin's hands, extending an array of elegantly burnished coins where there had once been a handful of Mum's sterlings.

Time spent in every quaint, little shop felt as if I'd experienced it through foggy, rose-tinted glasses. The walks between felt as short as a blink.

At Madam Malkin's Robe Shop, I vaguely registered soft fabric draping over my body and tape measures whizzing around me without any assistance, taking measurements of anything that could be of use to tailoring my school uniform.

At Flourish and Blotts, I had just enough focus to take in the sight old fashioned quills and inks traditional for Hogwarts students. I also had just enough comprehension to wonder how impossible it would be to use them for the very first time. I knew it wouldn't be pretty.

I certainly hadn't listened to a word Professor McGonagall was saying as I caught sight of an older student flying on a broom in a shop called Quality Quidditch Supplies. "Why is she riding on a tool used to dust floors?!"

Maybe it was because it was the last thing on my itinerary, or because of how dramatic it was; but getting my first wand was the only memory that wasn't as hazy.

A rusted, little bell rang as the Professor and I walked in, and the sound of wood slamming into wood was audible even from the front of the shop. I heard more than saw an elderly wizard hastily making his way to the front. "Welcome, welcome," came just around the corner of a shelf before a raggedy, bright-eyed man came to a stop at the counter separating us.

Professor McGonagall gave a cordial nod. "Good afternoon, Mr Ollivander."

"Minerva, why it's been an hour! How splendid to see you after so long!"

I let out a laugh.

Mr Ollivander peered down at me through wise, bespectacled eyes. "A first year?"

"Yes."

"Wand arm—"

"Dominant arm?" Professor McGonagall cut in.

"My right arm."

"Splendid, I have a wand in mind that could suit you nicely."

"Thank you, Sir."

But he was already disappearing behind a shelf, another sound of wood slapping against wood resonating through the store's interior.

"What is that, Professor?"

"I believe it's his indifference toward treating his ladders gently," she told me dryly.

Luckily, Mr Ollivander just missed Professor McGonagall's remark. He presented a long, skinny box around a foot long, pulling off the top to reveal a sleek, darkly polished wand, much like Professor McGonagall's.

"Ebony," Mr Ollivander said, his voice suddenly quieter. "With phoenix feather. A formidable combination, well versed for Transfiguration, and suited for highly individual people— non-conformists."

He took a step back and flicked the wand down in a sharp line.

"Wave it, just like that."

The wand was lightweight, but cold to the touch as I took it from him. I mimicked his actions the best I could— winced as it almost smacked the counter. There was a sudden contrast of warmth over my skin, but nothing visual. It didn't last long either. Several of the nearest candles snuffed out in heavy wisps of strong smoke.

"A potential wood, but phoenix feather won't do."

He didn't disappear into the vast storage of wands this time, simply reaching over to his left to pluck a medium, but rich wand from a nearby stand. This one wasn't nearly as slim as the previous one, the handle even bordering on bulky.

"English Oak and unicorn hair, suited for strength of heart. Oak is extremely loyal to its owner, but can be swayed to Dark Magic with moderate difficulty. Eleven inches. Give it a wave."

The same warmth filled my hand accompanied with several deep orange sparks, but it shot out of my hand immediately after, only rolling to a stop when it knocked against the previous wand's box many seconds later.

"Perhaps a wood more unyielding would do," Mr Ollivander mumbled to himself. I held back an irritated frown as he lovingly patting the wand that had all but launched itself away from me. "One moment." 

This time, he came back with a box not unlike the first one, but it looked a lot less worn than the first.

"A recent creation," he informed me seriously, pulling a warm toned wand from the box. This one had a simple but full ribbon of blossoms twisted around the base, but the end tapered to an unnervingly sharp point.

"Cherry wood and dragon heartstring, ten and a quarter inches— A prestigious combination best for individuals with exceptional strength of mind. It will perform well in charms and dueling, capable of dispelling lethal power. Be cautious, this woods is found in the possession of heroes just as often as villains."

I shivered. I didn't like the warnings that came with this one. I whipped it down, expecting, maybe even hoping for the same gentle heat in the palm of my hand. My sheer inaccuracy almost made me choke.

Heat exploded through my entire body before I even finished the motion, numbing my limbs and reducing them to scorching magic burning to be let out. For a single moment, I didn't feel human, I didn't even feel my presence contained in a physical entity. It was almost as if I could feel everything, every source of energy open to be used at my disposal. Light dripped from my hands, and even after I blinked the big black spots out of my vision, my skin was still glowing softly with an undercurrent of both engulfing sunshine and a raging inferno.

I think I hated it.

"This wand has chosen you as its owner." The look Mr Ollivander gave me was wary, far from the bright-eyed excitement he had when he first spoke to me. "Be cautious with your emotions when you're in vicinity of this wand, Ms Young. A slip of emotion is a loss of control. I dare hope you have the will to contain it."

One last heeding look was sent my way before he held out a hand. "Nine galleons, if you will."

With only, "The gold ones," from Professor McGonagall, I'd paid with no difficulty and walked as calmly as I could until we were out the door and well out of sight of the elderly wandmaker.

"Does he give a speech like that to everyone, Professor?"

The glance she cast toward me was just as loaded with care, but she had none of that grave, wild emotion that made my heart beat faster in panic.

"He is correct to be worried about your wand's magical capabilities, Ms Young, but the saying has always been that 'the wand chooses the witch.' I will admit I have no specialty in his field, but your wand, no matter how temperamental, bonded to you for a reason. Do not let his doubts cloud your confidence and diminish your sense of belonging to this world. Be proud to bear such magic, and never forget that you won't be left to navigate your power alone. You're apart of this world now too."

And with those words effectively calming me down, I was ready to return home with all of my obscure and magical purchases, safe as promised.

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