Chapter Text
Ollivanders was dustier than Ron had expected. He was too young to remember when Bill had bought his wand, but he had listened with rapt attention to the elder Weasley’s story of the mysterious shop and its eerie owner.
Ron had watched enviously as his older brothers went and got their brand-new wands, eagerly anticipating his own visit to the famous store.
He almost cried when his father told him that the family was going through a “hard time” and that he would have to use Charlie’s wand, at least for his first year at Hogwarts.
Ron had buried his anger with his parents at that time; after all, his hand-me-down wand seemed to work fine. However, as his second year approached, he expected his wand to go to Ginny and to finally get his own. However, to his dismay, when the family had returned from their Diagon Alley shopping, his sister had proudly shown her brand-new yew wand.
A cough broke Ron out of his reverie. He looked up and almost jumped at the sight of the old silver-haired man.
“Ah Mr. Weasley, I have been expecting you for some time.” Ron shivered despite himself.
“Umm... You have?” Ron asked in confusion.
Ollivander chuckled dryly. “You are the last Weasley son, correct? I expected you to be in my shop two years ago.”
Ron felt his ears heat up, and he looked at the floor. “Um yeah, we had some problems with money then.”
Ollivander glanced sharply at him. “I believe I had the pleasure of selling your younger sister Ginevra a wand last year” he stated.
Ron knew his ears were entirely red now. “Yeah, tell me about it” he mumbled out.
The old wandmaker softened his gaze. “Let us not dwell on the past. I assume you are here to purchase a new wand?”
Ron nodded vigorously. “Yes sir, I broke my brother Charlie’s wand in an accident last year.”
Ollivander’s piercing eyes bore through him once more. “You used a broken wand for a year? That is extremely dangerous Mr. Weasley, count yourself lucky that you are here in one piece.”
Ron recalled the perpetual blank look on his old defense professor’s face after his spell backfired. He nodded solemnly.
“Well, it is not wise to dwell on the past. Let us find you a wand!” The old man gestured dramatically towards the long, crooked shelves.
Ollivander started swiftly taking Ron’s measurements, and after a few moments, withdrew into the depths of the shop. He returned with a stack of boxes and placed the topmost wand into Ron’s palms.
The reaction happened almost instantly. As if it had a mind of its own, the wand blasted out of Ron’s hands with a force that knocked him to the floor.
Ron got up shakily. “Does that usually happen?”
Ollivander slowly shook his head. “It is very unusual for the wand to reject a wizard so violently.”
Ron groaned. “Well, that’s just my luck then.”
“Fear not Mr. Weasley” assured Ollivander, “there are hundreds of wands in this shop.”
After an hour had passed, Ron felt like he had tried almost every wand in the shop. While not all had reacted with the strength of the first one, every single wand he tried rejected him in some way. Mr. Ollivander was now sitting on a rickety stool and rubbing his hands nervously.
“I fear, Mr. Weasley that I have no more wands left to sell.”
Ron felt his eyes prick with tears as he tried desperately not to cry. Of course, he wasn’t chosen by a wand. He was a failure. He was a lousy wizard and a terrible brother who couldn’t even save his sister. A sidekick who would never measure up to Harry Potter.
Ollivander rose from the stool and walked towards him. “There may be one more chance Mr. Weasley” he whispered softly.
Ron looked up. “What do you mean?”
“Every once in a while, I stumble upon new materials which I use to construct experimental wands. I have a finished one in my workshop now. I would like you to try it.”
Ron sniffed and looked and the wandmaker hopefully. “Mr. Ollivander, do you really think that will work? What if I’m just a bad wizard?”
Ollivander looked down at him sternly. “Mr. Weasley, you have completed two years at Hogwarts with a wand you had no connection with. You are far from being a subpar wizard.” With that, he disappeared to the back of the shop and returned with a box. The old man opened it with a flourish. A long, shiny dark wand lay at the center. “Ebony and Acromantula silk, 10 inches.”
“A-Acromantula silk?” Ron stuttered. He remembered with the terror the bloodlust of the giant spiders roaming in the Forbidden Forest, and the frantic race to flee them.
Ollivander frowned. “It is not one of the conventional cores; nevertheless, I believe it has the potential to be a powerful wand. He took it out of the box and offered it to Ron.
Ron accepted the wand warily, but as soon as his hand touched the handle, he felt a warmth reach his fingers that quickly spread to his whole body. A rush of wind gusted through the old shop and left as soon as it came.
Ollivander smiled widely. “It seems that my work here is done.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ollivander!” Ron said profusely. He stood there awkwardly for a3 moment and then said shyly, “Umm, how much?”
Ollivander smiled at him. “Under normal circumstances, I charge seven galleons for a wand. However, Mr. Weasley, I shall give that want to you free of charge provided that you write to me monthly, detailing its performance.
Ron felt his ears heat up and managed a “Thank you so much, Mr. Ollivander” before he was ushered outside the store.
Alone, Ollivander surveyed the shop. His brow lifted as he realized that the mess caused by his most recent client had miraculously disappeared and that the shop looked cleaner than it had in years.
He chuckled. “We must expect great things from you, Mr.Weasley, great things indeed.”