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The silver bell tinkled as the door moved inward into the old shop. Dennis and his brother, Colin, got pushed inside by their very angry mother. They spent the previous twenty minutes in a potion supply boutique helping the witch proprietor clean up the small catastrophe Dennis and Colin somehow managed to create. The swore they never touched a thing. However, stepping into Ollivander’s Wand Shop made both boys pause and glance around. Their mother walked around them as they shuffled to one side with curious expressions on their faces.
Dennis let his eyes sweep the interior. It seemed nothing changed in the previous two years. He and his brother gazed at the rising shelves on each wall filled to the brim with long, narrow, thin boxes. Motes of dust hung in the air, and that itself prickled and tickled with stray magic. Dennis felt as if he needed to sneeze half the time. The establishment appeared older than possible. Even the worn floorboards lent the impression the place stood since time immemorial. The owner of the shop, one of the finest wand craftsmen, stood behind a counter that gave every impression it served for five hundred years. Walking into Ollivander’s quickly became a bittersweet moment for Dennis.
Two years before when Colin received his wand, it felt to Dennis as if he lost his brother. The stick of wood seemed to separate them, and Dennis could not figure out a way to overcome the thrall the wand exerted over his brother. Colin’s life centered on magic to the exclusion of everything, including his younger brother. The separation became more pronounced when Colin spent half a year in a frozen state due to the basilisk stare, and Dennis felt entirely powerless to help. During that period the younger boy felt entirely alone, stripped of his best friend in all the world. A jealousy built in his gut over Colin experiencing a brand new world without him. His thoughts started to change when Dennis canted his head to the side and watched his older brother.
Colin held out his hand. He breathed in a few times as though tasting the air. Then he looked at Dennis and asked: “Feel it?”
Dennis held out his hand. His fingers subtly tingled. He grinned at his brother.
“Amazing, huh?” Colin inquired with a grin growing on his face.
“What’s amazing?” Their mother asked. She looked and sounded pensive.
“The magic,” Dennis all but whispered the word.
Dennis and Colin stood nearly transfixed dressed as they normally did each summer of their lives. Button-up shorts, polo shirts, socks, and scuffed trainers adorned their bodies. It made them stand out from their contemporary witches and wizards who dressed in the manner particular and peculiar to the magi: they walked about in robes and attire assembled from many disparate fashion eras. The boys clothing hung on two thin, some might argue scrawny, bodies. Colin bested Dennis with an inch and half of height, but looked to weigh no more. Each boy possessed the same strawberry-blond hair as their mother, but Dennis’s tended more toward a coppery tint versus Colin’s darker golden coloration. In the same vein, Dennis peered at the world through gray-blue irises. Colin’s bright blue eyes took in just as many details.
Ahead of them two other new students went about selecting their wands. Dennis heard Mr. Ollivander, who appeared ancient but – as Colin would say – as sharp as a dragon talon, explain the basic principles of wands and wand lore. The notion the wand somehow knew with whom to pair itself puzzled Dennis. However, on the service counter ample proof lay in the pile of unmatched wands laying slightly askew in long pasteboard boxes decorated in sumptuous looking paper. When Dennis paid attention, he heard Mr. Ollivander give a detailed oration on the particulars of the wand in question before extending the handle to his customer. As the girl took hold of the shaped wood, she seemed to glow for an instant, and magic swirled around everyone in the shop.
"Good heavens," Jill Creevey said even though she experienced the same with her older son two years before.
The magical display made Dennis giddy, and Colin seemed to feed off his brother’s exhilaration. The two boys bounced on the balls of their trainer-clad feet. Dennis glanced upward when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. From the corner of his eye, he saw Colin mimic him. Their mother looked down with a fierce glare.
"Do not get carried away as you like to do," she warned her sons. "Can't imagine how much damage you'd do in here… especially after what happened in that poor woman’s store."
“Yes, Mum," the boys said in unison, a well rehearsed response.
The second new student before them, apparently a friend of the first girl and from a magi family as well, went about selecting her wand. Dennis listened as the shop proprietor listed the various properties of the wand along with the history of its crafting. The almost tawny-colored wood seemed to gleam, and again everyone in the shop got a display of when the wand found the recipient acceptable. The girl's hair blew around her head as the pairing between wand and witch commenced. A magical burst sailed outward from her body.
"Is it always like this for you… magical folk?" Mrs. Creevey hummed the question seemingly more to herself than anyone in particular.
"Indeed, it is, Missus Creevey," the man behind the counter answered her. "It is a celebration of two new friends finally meeting one another after a long wait. In the pairing we can see the roots of what the witch or wizard will become over time. I suspect young Miss McGillis here will explore her affinity for nature and all things that live and grow in the wilds."
"How did you…?" The girl gasped.
"The wand told me. The linking of English Oak and a unicorn hair is very specific. It favors those who harbor a true love for nature and all the animals and plants found therein. This wand chose you because of your qualities," the man told her in a rather awed and hushed manner. "Now, young Colin Creevey standing behind you was graced with a dogwood and unicorn hair wand that perfectly matched his energetic, curious, and playful nature. I imagine that together there is never a dull moment around him and his wand."
Dennis giggled at his older brother when Colin blushed. His mother rolled her eyes as if to underscore Mr. Ollivander's pronouncement. The man smirked at her. He then went about finalizing the sale of the wand to the McGillis girl. He also instructed her on very specific ways to care for the wand now in her keeping. Everyone listened since the elderly man seemed to know more than he ever let on and concluded his business with her.
"And here we have another Creevey getting ready for the grandest adventure of his young life," Mr. Ollivander said as he looked over the counter at Dennis. "Mere wisp of thing, you are."
"Wouldn't know it by how much he eats. He just can't sit still for more than two minutes is all," Jill Creevey intoned, but she sounded rather accepting of the fact.
She looked every inch non-magical from her hair style to her blouse and jeans to her sensible adult trainers. Paired with her sons, the Creeveys seemed as if they simply stepped out of the middle of London on an ordinary day. Dennis did not pay attention to the differences between themselves and the two new witches who departed the shop. His eyes remained fixed on the counter and the elderly man. Unlike his mother, Mr. Ollivander dressed like a shopkeeper from the century before in an embroidered waist coat with a silken cravat and sleek wool trousers. Square wire-framed glasses perched on the end of his nose. The man’s wavy, wispy gray hair sat neatly coiffed on his head. Yet the sparkle in his eyes drew Dennis’ attention.
"Ah, a restless soul!"
"Oh, that's an understatement!"
As the two adults chuckled, Dennis glanced at Colin with a smirk growing on his face. He witnessed the latent mischief in his brother too often to miss it. Yet, Colin looked odd without his now ever-present camera with which he took pictures of Hogwarts and sent back home. It resided, Dennis knew, in their mother’s large purse following her tirade at them in the potions boutique. Only a second passed before the reason for the stop reasserted itself in Dennis’ head.
"Well, if your brother is any indication as to your… nature, then perhaps we should start with something similar," said Mr. Ollivander just before he retreated from the counter.
"You two are going to blow up the house, aren't you?" Their mother quietly and rhetorically asked and with a touch more humor than Dennis expected.
"Might," Colin rejoined, shrugged, and his smirk widened.
"Will not," Dennis flatly countered, although he smiled as well. "We'll probably just scorch it in places."
"Heaven help me! Two wizards," Jill Creevey moaned in a theatrical manner.
"Yep! Yep! This is a nice assortment," Mr. Ollivander declared from somewhere deep in the aisles of his shop. Moments later he stepped back into the circle of light surrounding the counter. He set down four boxes. "Since I don't believe you are an exact copy of your brother, I thought we'd try some derivatives."
"Okay," Dennis said while Colin pushed him forward to the counter.
He stumbled toward the circle of light that seemed to designate where the new wand recipient should stand. Mr. Ollivander opened a box and retrieved the implement. The long piece of wood, a mild amber color with streaks of pink in it, gleamed. Mr. Ollivander presented the handle to Dennis.
"Larch with a phoenix feather, and that was some phoenix! Ten-inches long. Whippy and durable," the man stated the properties.
Dennis took hold of the wand. It felt oily in his grip like it wanted to slip away from him. Magics churned in his body. He struggled to hold onto the piece of wood. Then the end of the wand began to shine with an ever-increasing luminosity before Mr. Ollivander snatched it from his hand. Dennis frowned.
"Not quite," the wand maker stated as he placed the wand in the box, and then set the box aside with others that failed to find a match. He also pushed another box toward the pile. "I would expect a similar result from that one, too."
"Yes, sir," Dennis responded with a curiosity about the unseen, untested wand.
"Not to worry. I believe it took three searches before we found your brother's wand. Do not fret, young… younger Mister Creevey. I am certain somewhere in this shop is a wand made specifically for you."
"How?" He chirped in an automatic fashion. "I mean, did you know I would be coming in here and made it 'specially for me?"
Dennis saw his mother flash him a warning expression. He took it to mean he needed to be polite and to curb his highly inquisitive nature. His attention returned to the old man.
"An excellent question," chirped Mr. Ollivander. "I craft wands to fit the need of any witch or wizard that walks through my door. I make such a variety of wands from so many different woods and the three best cores in the magical world… the end results all slightly different in length and thickness, and let me tell you those attributes truly affect how a wand performs."
Dennis blinked at the man when he finished.
"Oh, to your question then. No, not you specifically, but somewhere in these shelves hides a wand that will take to you like a hippocampus to water. It will understand you on first touch and how you will wield the magic in your body. The wands that do not understand you will sense the ill-pairing and act in unpredictable ways. This is part of what we mean when we say the wand chooses the wizard."
Dennis, his brother, and his mother bobbed their heads. Dennis recalled the times Colin attested his wand seemed to know him even after the shortest span together. His brother claimed he found himself capable of casting spells of unusual complexity when his adventurous instincts got invoked. The wand responded to his excitement, he often told them. Magic, Colin said, came to him the same way breathing did. Dennis did not understand what Colin fully meant, but could tell by Colin's reactions the wand became vitally important to him. In the long wait before he stood in Ollivander’s, Dennis grew jealous over the relationship his brother developed with the wand.
"Since that is the case, let’s try this one. Spruce. Nine inches long with a dragon heartstring. Commanding… and wants to be commanded. You seem a fellow with a strong mind," Mr. Ollivander quipped and handed over the wand.
Fog instantly began to spew from the wand the moment Dennis' hand touched the wood. As happened with the previous one, he got a near sense of dislike from the wand. The feel of it bothered him, so he set it down on the counter. The fog quickly began to lift.
"Clearly not a match. That you chose to set it aside before it got out of control speaks about your nature. Tell me, how do you like to spend your free time?" The man inquired.
"Dismantling the world when Colin is around," Jill Creevey answered for him. "They get into everything, Mister Ollivander, and none of it remains whole for very long."
On nearly countless occasions Dennis’ primary school rang his parents with a new tale of an inexplicable occurrence often involving the destruction of some strange oddment. Although never able to prove either Colin or Dennis responsible, the brothers tended to be located nearby when the events occurred. They routinely and honestly told their parents they never touched the objects in question. Only very circumstantial evidence ever got presented. Once Colin received his letter from Hogwarts after completing his tenure at Wheatfields Junior School, it seemed easy for Dennis and his parents to concluded Colin somehow unknowingly unleashed his magic. When Dennis got his acceptance letter, it cemented the suspicions in place that twice the magic likely went into effect.
The shopkeeper eyed his mother and then looked to Dennis. His blue, slightly rheumy eyes seemed totally precise. His gaze penetrated even through the glass of the lenses. Dennis shrugged as he considered his answer.
"I like to make models when Colin isn't around," he told the man.
"Oh, yeah. He's really good at it, too, Mister Ollivander. Denny is the best with planes. He even gets the propellers to spin!" Colin chimed in and made Dennis blush.
"He's good with… I guess you'd say the fiddly bits. Denny's got an eye for detail," his mother added for apparently good measure.
Colin began to bounce on feet as he said: "Oh! Oh! Last summer he got a brass boiler kit for his birthday from our dad, and he got it up and running in two days! It really worked…"
"Until the boiler burst a seam because he closed some valve for too long. Surprised you two didn't get scalded!" The mother interjected and chastised him. Dennis felt included in the reproof.
"Col kept us safe," he admitted from the corner of his mouth.
The bell above the shop door tinkled when the door opened. Two parents with one child entered. Mr. Ollivander looked at them and nodded. He then said: "It might be a few minutes. We have with us a rather exacting boy here who needs just the right wand."
Dennis felt his face turn a little red. Many times his parents accused him of garnering attention at the least opportune moment. Colin snickered and jabbed an elbow into his side. A smile edged across Dennis' mouth while he threw elbow in return.
"Fiddly bits, is it?" The wand maker said as he again floated from the counter into the twilight depths of the shelves.
They all heard Mr. Ollivander muttering to himself once more as he sorted through the boxes somewhere out of sight. Dennis thought the old man sounded happier than when they first began. It appeared the more complicated the pairing of magi to wand, the more the wand maker enjoyed it. Dennis thought he understood. He liked figuring out how things worked and, more importantly, why. Sometimes when he sat alone building a model, he would talk to it and ask questions as to how it turned out the way it did. The pieces never answered, but Dennis liked the conversations nonetheless. Later, he often went to books to find out how something he built as a scale model actually operated. As his mother testified: Dennis liked the fiddly bits.
"Alright. I think one of these two is the right one," the man said as he stepped back into the light. He set the boxes down, both dressed in deep maroon corduroy paper. The top of one got lifted, the paper pulled aside, and a dark brown wand lay within. "Walnut with a unicorn hair core. Nearly twelve inches long. Nimble and springy. Not a common pairing, but one well suited for a curious mind. Let's give it a go, shall we?"
Dennis reached for the wand Mr. Ollivander did not take from the small case. The boy paused his hand. A prickly, tense sensation fell across his fingers. He glanced up at the wand maker.
"Yes, Mister Creevey?"
"I… um, don't think it wants me to touch it. My fingers are tingling," he answered.
"Well, now. You're sensitive to magic. Wise is the wizard who knows when to stay his hand from a spell," Mr. Ollivander told him while re-encasing the wand. "I think… maybe we have the very one here."
He opened the second box and pulled aside the lining paper. A piece of goldish-red wood nestled under the paper. Mr. Ollivander gently retrieved it. The elderly man smiled as he studied it, and Dennis thought he looked at it with love.
"This wand has waited over sixty years to find the right wielder," said Mr. Ollivander in a quiet voice, and appeared he spoke more to the wand than his customer. "American red pine. My father me sent me around to find… unusual woods with just the right properties. I traveled the world, Mister Creevey, looking for pieces we could use. This red pine came from the dense forests in western North America, in the state of Washington in the United States. My father believed it an interesting if not expected find. He challenged me to pair it with a dragon heartstring. I did, but it took a lot of fiddling before it seated just right. This wand has never accepted a witch or wizard since the day I made it."
"And you think this is the wand for me?" Dennis asked with some hesitancy.
"One never knows, but most everything in life is a guess," the man informed him. "It’s sturdy, like the tree from which came, even for a soft wood. But don't let that fool you, young man. It is also supple. I think it knows when to bend and when to remain rigid. The dragon heartstring seems to be bringing out the hidden qualities of red pine. I think back to the number of bowtruckles I saw hiding in its branches and between the needles."
"Oh, ah, sure," Dennis muttered.
"Now, take it and give it a wave to check the fit!”
Dennis took hold of the red-gold wand. His body instantly filled with magic. It made him gasp, and his eyes grow wide. Excitement bubbled through every fiber in his being. His arm, his entire carriage for that matter, felt stronger than he ever knew. Around him a warm light got added to the illumination from the chandelier hanging overhead. His hand tightened around the handle of the wand as if he feared he might lose it or someone would try to take it from him. Dennis felt instantly protective of the piece of wood. He never wanted to be parted from it. Moreover, the wand gave him the impression he belonged to it as much as it belonged to him. Dennis felt enlightenment spread through him as did the magic.
"And we have a match," Mr. Ollivander sighed. "I've wondered for years and years when the right person would come along the wand would find acceptable. It seems you are more than acceptable to this wand, Mister Creevey. I expect you will go far and preform wonderful… fiddly feats with it."
"Thank you," Dennis breathed the words. He turned to his brother. "I get it now, Col. I…."
He and Colin stared at one another. In that moment he found new ground with his brother, and one they shared in equal measure. Words escaped Dennis while old wounds suddenly seemed ephemeral and unimportant.
"Yeah, I know, Denny. Can't describe it, can you?" Colin asked, but did not seem predisposed to expect an answer. "That's a really good looking wand. Matches your hair."
"A bit more gold than Denny's, but I can see what you mean," Dennis’ mother remarked. "Okay. Let's box it up and be on our way. Mister Ollivander's got other customers besides us, and we still have more things to get."
Dennis turned again to the man and said: "Thank you, Mister Ollivander, for making this for me. I already love it."
"You are more than welcome, my good sir. It brings me such profound joy when the right wand finds the right wizard… or witch. It is an entirely different form of magic," the man said as he held out his hand.
Dennis pulled his arm back and did not relinquish the wand.
"Dennis Creevey! Hand that back to Mister Ollivander this second!" His mother called him out.
"I suspect it is as much the wand as it is your son. It found its home, and it seems loathe to leave it. This is a very strong pairing from the start, Missus Creevey. You should be very happy for him," the shop owner said in an understanding tone as he pulled a small slip of paper from the holding box. "This is the reason I do what I do."
"Mum, I know it's hard for you understand, but this… it's sort of like finding a part of your body you didn't know was missing," Colin told her.
"Exactly," agreed Mr. Ollivander. "That which helps the, ah, witch or wizard realize their magic becomes part of their identity. It is, as your son so succinctly stated, like discovering an unknown piece of your body."
Dennis heard the words, and they sank deep into his brain. He trusted his brother more than anyone else in the world. Even more than their parents. Once he acknowledge the essential and immediate need for his new wand, Dennis felt more in control of himself. It still took a supreme act of will, but he slowly extended his arm toward the old man. Mr. Ollivander held his open hand under Dennis' closed fist. Even more will got applied in order to make his fingers uncurl. The wand dropped into the man's hand.
"My word," the wand maker stated as his fingers slowly clasped it. “Thank you, Wizard Creevey.”
Dennis watched as the man returned the wand to the box, carefully replaced the lining paper, and slid the lid over the bottom section. In a ceremonial fashion, he handed the box to Dennis. Immense relief swept through Dennis as he accepted it.
"I think eight galleons is in order, Missus Creevey," Mr. Ollivander said while looking at the woman.
"Um… just under forty pounds, Mum," Colin informed her after making the quick calculation.
"Why is a new school year always so expensive," she said as she dug around in her purse. “The big gold ones, right?”
Dennis and Colin both nodded.
“I’ve only got four left,” Jill Creevey huffed. She then pulled out a credit card. “Can you?”
"Certainly, ma'am. You're not the first muggle parent taken short by all of this. But I would be remiss if I didn't remind you your son and his wand will spend their lives together. It is an investment that pays dividends far into the future," the elderly man said while taking the credit card. "In regard to this, we make exchanges when needed. If you'd be so good as to give me just a moment."
Dennis watched as Mr. Ollivander placed the credit card and the small piece of parchment into a wooden box, one marked with the Gringotts' seal on the cover, and closed the lid. He drew the number eight on the surface. It seemed as though nothing happened, but Dennis inherently knew a magical transaction took place. A minute later the lid lifted a small amount. Mr. Ollivander finished the upward movement. He retrieved the plastic rectangle and square of parchment that seemingly appeared from nowhere. Easily visible on the parchment inside an assortment of neatly printed rectangles someone wrote the details of the purchase in a spidery script. Mrs. Creevey received her card and the receipt.
“Despite what anyone thinks, the goblins at Gringotts are quite methodical regarding the conducting of business. I can assure you the rate will be the right and proper exchange," Mr. Ollivander told her.
"Thank you, Mister Ollivander," Jill Creevey politely returned. "It's always… an adventure coming here."
"Then I should expect more Creeveys in the future?"
"Ha! No! Aren't these two enough?"
Dennis and his brother both snorted in amusement at her exclamation.
Mr. Ollivander grinned as he replied: "I should say they are, and quite splendid as well."
"Care to have them live with you for a couple of weeks?" The woman suggested.
"Missus Creevey, your boys are happy. They're healthy. They are full of vim and vigor. They exhibit a joy in life only those who've received a proper and good upbringing can know. I fear my care would be far below the standard you've set," he graciously declined, and the man's squinty blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses.
Dennis saw his mother go speechless for a second at the rather large compliment paid to her.
"I suppose so," she responded as a small smile formed on her mouth. "Thank you again, Mister Ollivander. Have a good day."
"And thank you, and it's already proved a remarkable day. I suspect more is too come, and I eagerly court it!" He replied.
Dennis and Colin got ushered away from the counter to make way for the next customers. Dennis hugged the box containing his new wand. Old jealousies regarding Colin fell dead to the ground as he gained new insight into what his brother experienced. The younger Creevey boy knew he could not find the right words to explain himself, yet he became certain his older brother already understood.
"Now, who do we have here getting ready for his first year at school?" Mr. Ollivander's voice sailed over their heads as he greeted the next customer.
"Kind of an oddball, but he's really good at this," Colin muttered under his breath.
"I got a wand, Col," Dennis remarked, and it failed to connect to anything his brother said.
"Knew you would," said his brother as their mother pulled open the shop door and set the bell to chiming. "Can I tell you something?"
Dennis nodded while she pushed them forward.
"I sort of figured out you might be better than me at this," Colin stated.
"I am not," the younger brother countered.
The trio walked out of the shop. The door closed behind them, and they could just hear the light tinkling of the bell. It instantly got consumed by the noise suffusing the whole of Diagon Alley.
"I don't know, Denny. Magic always seems easier when I'm around you. When I'm alone at school, sometimes it harder to make spells work. Sure, I get there with some really good results, but… when I get permission to practice at home with you around, it's just happens better."
"You're going to blow up Hogwarts," Mrs. Creevey remarked as she guided them onto the street and into the teeming mass of people all shopping for the start of a new school year.
Dennis chuckled, as did Colin, because he heard a strange amusement in his mother’s voice.
"I mean it," she told them in a mildly reproving way. "If you do any damage to that place while you're there, you'll get to pay for it on your own. All this time with all those strange things happening at home and at Wheatfields. Do you know how many calls we got saying they thought you broke something at school, but didn't have any real way of proving it?"
The brothers became very quiet and very still even though they walked along a busy street.
"At least now you'll both be going somewhere they can deal with it," their mother concluded.
"Yeah," they said in happy unison and began to bounce as they walked.
"But it doesn't mean you don't have to behave yourselves!" Jill Creevey rounded on her overly-enthusiastic sons.
Dennis continued to hug the box containing his wand. He and Colin chuckled in a way that announced they already began to plot mayhem for Hogwarts. It sounded to the new wizard that his mother took an almost sinister delight in reminding them they could not do magic outside of the school. Dennis wondered how many hours he would survive before the temptation to use his new wand overcame his sensibilities. Moreover, he predicted Colin would be right there urging him to test it. The smile that stretched along Dennis' face spoke volumes. Deep within, he reveled at being reunited with his brother. Life would once again be the grand adventure they always managed to find.