Power, Freedom and a French Flower

A new world and a wand

AN: Let's get some shopping done:

Enjoy!

The recognizable sections belong to JKR

Chapter 3

May 6th, 1991

Harry left Gringotts with a big bag of Galleons and an even bigger smile on his face. He had just discovered a brand-new world, found out that he was a wizard, and that he was pretty much financially independent. All from just a look at his trust vault too!

What he really wanted now was a wand! A proper wizard needed a proper wand. Ever since Tom used his and the goblin mentioned that wizards usually carry wands, Harry couldn't wait to get one himself. He imagined that his abilities would become even more powerful when channeling his energy through the piece of wood.

Not wanting to waste any more time, he asked a random customer in the alley about a shop to buy wands.

"You should go to Ollivanders, my young friend. He is the best wandmaker in all of Britain... maybe even all of Europe. Walk down the alley for a couple of minutes and look out for a shop on your right."

Harry thanked the kind stranger and followed his directions. He arrived at a store that read "Ollivanders, makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.".

"Quite an old store", Harry thought to himself as he entered the building.

The smell was very unfamiliar, and the shelves were stacked all the way to the roof with small boxes that seemed to contain wands. Harry couldn't find any salesperson, so he simply walked around a bit and took a look at some of the boxes.

"I must admit, I have not expected you so soon, Mr. Potter. It is very good to see you returning to the wizarding world. However, unfortunately, I won't be able to help you just yet."

"How do you know my name? And why can't you sell me a wand? I have more than enough galleons, sir!" Harry replied heatedly.

"The Ministry of magic prohibits the sale of wands to anyone under the age of 11," Oliverander replied calmly. "You shall return on your birthday in a couple of weeks to buy your wand. However, that doesn't mean that we can't already find a perfect match for you."

"A match, sir? I thought I would just pick any wand that I liked?" Harry frowned.

"Oh no, Mr. Potter." The old man's eyes beamed: "The wand chooses the wizard, always remember that. Every wand crafted by Ollivander is individual in itself. The wands are made of different materials, and all have different cores, lengths, and degrees of flexibility."

Harry nodded his understanding. So far it made sense. Wands were not items one could simply mass-produce on an assembly line. But how does one find a match?

Meanwhile, Ollivander continued: "I still remember your father's wand: eleven inches, mahogany, very pliable, and excellent for transfiguration. Your mother's, however, was ten and a quarter inch, made from willow, very swishy, and perfect for charms. Let us see what kind of wand fits you the best."

Oliver gestured to Harry to move towards him: "Which is your wand hand, Mr. Potter?"

"I am ambidextrous, sir," Harry replied calmly.

"Interesting, very interesting..." Ollivander nodded: "Let me get your measurements, then."

Soon, different tape measures started spinning around him on their own. However, they did not measure the distances Harry would assume. Instead, they measured the length from his nose to his belly button, his outstretched thumb to his elbow, and many other seemingly random distances. Ollivander wrote down all the results on a small piece of parchment with a quill.