The Sword and the Wand

Ollivanders

Pain.

A deep throbbing pain.

And then the screaming.

Annabeth...

Wise Girl...

my soul mate.

She was dead. Every night, night after night she would die. It was a torture beyond all others. The broken hero, wasting away, screaming, sobbing, thrashing. And no one could stop it.
      I woke with a start. I was tangled in my sheets; panting and sweaty. The nightmare had come back again.
       Standing up, I pulled on some jeans and a sea green tee-shirt and checked my watch. 5:04 A.M. I sighed, stretched, and made my way downstairs, hoping for food.
     "I didn't expect to see you down here so early," remarks Tom, the bartender.
     "Nightmares," I reply, running my hand through my messy bed head. "Can I get directions to the wand shop?"
"Oh, you'll want Ollivanders obviously," Tom said. "It's the best wand shop in all of Britain." He gave me directions, and I walked into the back alleyway to tap in the code-ish thing.
--//--//--//--//--//--//--//
"A little bit old to be buying your first wand aren't you?" Croaked Ollivander, "and I don't remember you from before, so who are you?"
"I'm Percy Jackson," I stated, "may I buy a wand?" The frail old wand-maker nodded his head, and bustled around the shop, picking up boxes and piling them on the front counter.
The store was dusty with rows and rows of old brown, black, and tan boxes. There were several ladders to reach for the top boxes, and the windows were grimy from years of use.
"Ah, try this one," Ollivander muttered, handing me a stick that I assumed was the wand. "Go on, give it a wave," he prompted, as I stood there holding it. "No no no, that will never do," he mumbled, almost immediately whisking the wand away.
--//--/--/--/-///-
So bored...
I had left at 7:00 this morning to get a wand, and here at 12:00 Ollivander was still handing me wands. When I asked why it was taking so long, his only words were "The wand chooses the wizard, the wand chooses the wizard." The strange thing was that there were still hundreds of wand-containing boxes on the shelves, and he seemed to get more and more excited with every failed attempt.
Diagon Alley was bustling with business and hawkers selling their wares by now. There were even several younger children lined up and waiting to buy a wand.
"This should do the trick!" Ollivander cried. I waved the wand, and faintly heard crashing waves and smelled the scent of Annabeth's hair and the waves. My hair was ruffled even more than usual. I felt a pang of loss at the scent that floated on the air.
I glanced up from the wand, and saw that the old wand maker was practically jumping up and down with excitement. "Twelve inches, Cedar, nice and supple, with a hippocampus tail hair core. I have never seen a wand quite like this one, and it is the only wand ever to have been made with this core," He babbled. "This wand was made for a powerful wizard," he then intoned seriously. What was up with the mood change? Is he bipolar? "I'll be expecting great things Mr. Jackson. Very great things."
All of the kids in the shop stared at me as I hurriedly paid Ollivander and left the shop.