A Muggle Among Magic

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"Got everything?" I asked distantly.

"Yes, I think so," Father replied, double-checking his phone. "Oh! Your wand. And a pet if you'd like."

I dragged Father towards the wand shop named Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

A single wand that lay on a faded purple cushion could be seen through a dusty window. A soft bell tinkled as we entered the shop. Ollivanders was small. Cosy. No furniture except for a single, spindly chair that Father took a seat on. I crinkled my nose and held in a sneeze. There was too much dust in here to comprehend.

"Hello there."

I jumped and looked around. I spotted an old man behind the counter, somewhere in the depths of the many shelves lined with narrow boxes piled neatly to the ceiling. His eyes were pale and shone like two tiny moons.

"Hi. . ." I start.

"Welcome, welcome. Another muggle-born I see. . ." the man I supposed was Mr. Ollivander shuffled from behind the desk.

"Sorry, but what is a muggle, sir?" I sneezed, making clouds of dust fly up everywhere.

"A muggle is what we witches and wizards call non-magical people. You're the same as us, just born with muggles. Although many don't think the same."

I was confused by what he said but Mr. Ollivander quickly got back to business. "What's your wand arm?"

"Uh. . . I'm left-handed?" I said.

Mr. Ollivander pulled out a tape measure. "Hold out that arm," he instructed.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. 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."

I felt as though he had repeated that phrase many times over as he sounded almost bored while he said it.

While I'm watching Mr. Ollivander rifle through the shelves, I didn't realise that the tape measure was moving on it's own, measuring each of my fingers in turn.

"That's good enough," Mr. Ollivander almost scolded the tape measure.

It folded itself into a heap on the floor and lay unmoving. 

I kicked it for good measure. 

"Hm. . . perhaps this one. . ." Mr. Ollivander muttered to himself. 

I took a step back as he walked around the desk towards me again. "9 inches. Nice and swishy. Made of Hawthorn. Good for healing spells and sometimes even curses. Quite ironic no?" 

I gingerly took it from his hands. 

"Go on then. Give it a swish." 

I flicked it and expected something like sparkles to come out of it or something rather but I did not expect for a glass vase on the counter to explode and shatter on the ground. 

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--" I stuttered. 

"No need for theatrics. Happens all the time. Reparo." 

The vase mended itself and I stared at Mr. Ollivanders in awe. 

"Try this one. 10 and a half inches long. This wand is swishy too but made of Apple wood. Doesn't mix well with Dark magic." 

I lifted the wand from its case and it felt as if it was an extension to my hand. It felt as though I connected to it. 

It seemed Mr. Ollivander made the connection too.