The Wand Makers Apprentice

Chapter 7

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop signalling the arrival of new customers inside. Rosie threw herself down the narrow stairs into her fathers tiny and empty shop. She had to get to the customer before her father: it was a sort of game they had deduced.

It was always quiet in the shop and felt strangely as though you had entered a very strict library. For some reason, the shop always made the back of her neck prick, even though she had lived here for the last thirteen years of her life. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

　　"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Rosie jumped. The customer msut've too, because there was a loud crunching noise which must of been her fathers old spindle chair.

　　She glanced around the corner from the bottom of the stairs. Her father had got to them first and this was confirmed as an old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop; her father - Garrick Ollivander.

　　"Hello," said the voice of the customer awkwardly.

　　"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Rosie's hands began to shake. She should've expected him to arrived in her wand shop! How could she go to Hogwarts without a wand. She hit herself with her own wand, making herself flinch as she prodded it in her eye.

　　 She took another look around the corner, rubbing her eyes and saw her dad moving closer to Harry. He looked like he wished he could be anywhere else. Rosie couldn't blame him, those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

　　"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it -- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

　　Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Rosie could see Harrh reflected in her fathers misty eyes.

　　"And that's where..."

　　Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

　　"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do...."

　　He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid.

　　"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again.... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

　　"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

　　"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

　　"Er -- yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

　　"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

　　"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Rosie noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke and she gave a loud snigger, making Ollivander, Harry and Hagrid snap their necks in the direction of Rosie's hiding spot.

"Rosetta I'm guessing." Ollivander said, smiling slightly. Harry gave him a blank look, as if Rosetta was some wild and magical spell. "My daughter. Lovely girl Hagrid, would you not agree?"