Starstruck

17. Ollivander's

The rest of the day seemed to pass like a blur for Albus as his list of stores to visit decreased and his bag groaned under the weight of dozens of books, equipment and robes. Before he knew it, there was just one shop left to visit. The one he had been so equally petrified about yet anticipating all day. He was going to become a real wizard at last. Albus Potter was about to purchase his wand! Forget black pointy hats and toads, those stereotypes were nothing compared to the magic he would yield when he purchased his wand. The thought of so much power caused a shiver right down his spine.

His father sent James and Lily to the Magical Menagerie to look at owls, giving them another brief spell of time alone. They stood outside a run-down store which seemed to radiate hostility, quite the opposite of the warm interior of the Weasley’s joke shop. The smell of damp seeped through Albus and he clamped his hand to his nose, wrinkling it in disgust as he breathed through his mouth steadily to avoid the smell. It looked unkempt and deserted; it was hard to believe that this was in fact the iconic wand shop, most famous in Europe. Just as Albus was starting to wonder if this store had actually been deserted, a withered, weak old man- who looked so fragile that he could just snap in half- stepped out of the shadows to greet them.

He had a shock of limp grey hair, sunken piercing eyes and a thin face lined with wrinkles. The clothes that hang off his skeletal frame were simple and shabby, reflecting the overall air of mystery about him. He  terrified Albus, yet intrigued him at the same time. He realised that the eyes of this man were sunken and filled with grief, and wondered if it was grief that had aged him so. He looked like a figure from the past, too old for this time. Albus knew he must be Mr Ollivander, the famously skilled wand maker that Harry had briefly told him about. Albus stared at the ground to avoid his piercing eyes, the only part of him which seemed truly alive.

They bored into him like drills, piercing right through Albus. looking the Albus up and down before he saw the weathered face attempt a smile. "I thought I would be seeing you soon Mr Potter” said Mr Ollivander, looking now at Harry with his ice-blue eyes. There was silence, the man nodded slowly as if confirming an unspoken suspicion.  "I'll be right back" the old man spoke as he shuffled slowly into the far end of the room. Apon reaching the towering shelves, he pulled out a shabby green box with shaking hands, and then walked back over to the counter.  "Perhaps, this?"

Albus stared at the wand, examining it carefully as if it were a bomb. "9 inch, unicorn hair and chestnut. Quite brittle" said Mr Ollivander impatiently, as if he were hurrying Albus along. Albus removed the wand from the narrow box, twisting it in his fingers to get a feel for the wood. It was smooth to the touch and narrowed nearer the top, a simple design in rich chestnut brown. "Well, go on then give it a wave" said Mr. Ollivander wearily "We haven't got all day."

It was ironic though, thought Albus as he raised the wand over his head, Ollivander looked in no rush as if he did indeed have all day to test Albus. He pointed uncertainly it at nowhere in particular, and gave it an awkward jab. CRASH! A flower pot to his left quivered dangerously and shattered into tiny pieces at his feet. "Not to worry, not to worry" said Ollivander casually as if expecting this, grabbing the wand from Albus and handing him another.

Albus felt his hands grasp around the wand as he took it from Ollivander.  "11 and 3 quarter inch, Dragon heartstring and vine wood" said the wandmaker.  This wand was slightly longer and thinner than the other with winding patterns like vines creeping up a wall. Albus waved the wand again, feeling foolish and sent a cascade of wand boxes flying down and smashing open. He blushed crimson. Why had this happened again? Olivander quickly mended the damage with a wave of his own wand and handed him a third wand.

Albus’s own hands were shaking now as he took the wand. "10 inch, Phoenix feather, and rowan wood...” said Mr Ollivander, his expression softening. Albus's palms were sweating as he raised the wand the wand above his head. Just then, he felt an odd sensation, like a flow of warmth and magic spreading down his arms and lighting up his insides.  He knew. This time was different. A blast of light shot through a small hole in the ceiling and lifted his off his feet in a cloud of purple mist. Albus beamed with happiness as he hovered; he knew he had found his true wand...