Chapter Text
Eleanor Smith clutched her satchel and hesitated outside the narrow shop. The city noise of London long faded behind her, replaced by a hush that seemed almost unnatural. She had never been anywhere like this before: the wonderful view of Diagon Alley was entirely new, full of strange smells, glimmers of color, and whispers of magic she could not yet name. Nothing Professor Fig had said had prepared her for the moment she would actually take hold of her own wand. She didn’t know what to expect, only that she must follow whatever the wandmaker guided her to do, and all would be solved by itself.
The wooden door creaked as she stepped inside the small and cramped building. Dust motes danced in shafts of sunlight, and the air smelled of polished wood, old parchment, and something faintly electric. Shelves teetered with wand boxes that looked as if they might topple at any moment. Eleanor felt her stomach twist with a mix of awe and fear.
"Merlin's. Blooming. Beard. Not again," a man's voice cursed from the back of the shop.
She paused, reaching for the desk bell just as it rang on its own. From around the corner emerged an elderly, spectacled man balancing an armful of boxes. “I’ll be right with - Ah, it’s you! Just a moment, please.” before disappearing again from her view.
"Hello, sir. I'm looking for -" she began when he returned.
"For a new wand, yes. It's about time," the man interrupted, his eyes twinkling in acknowledgment.
"Yes, I - about time?"
"Well, you're our new fifth-year student, are you not?" he replied, matter-of-factly, as if that would solve her confusion. "Oh, what am I saying? Of course you are. Gerbold Ollivander's the name! But, of course, you'll have heard of the Ollivanders. I'm sure. Finest wandmakers in the world." He stepped out from behind the counter, tucking his wand behind his right ear before taking her hand in both of his, shaking it almost reverently. “It's a pleasure to meet you. Truly."
"Now, come with me. Let's find you the perfect wand, shall we?" Gerbold turned toward the cluttered shelves in contemplation. "Hmm. No, no, no, not you - Ah, yes - yes. Powerful core, ten and a half inches - you might do." he presented her a long and green box containing a rather spindly wand. "Walnut, Phoenix feather. Here, give this one a try."
She carefully took out the wooden instrument, admiring its craft. "Go ahead, swish!" Mr. Ollivander encouraged her when the wand in Eleanor's hand only produced a small spark, as if it were broken. "Hm, how odd. Once more. Come on, really swish it."
Eleanor did as she was told, then gasped in surprise as the wand jumped from her hand into the air, fireworks erupting from its tip. She covered her head in fright as Gerbold uttered a simple "Oh, dear," and retrieved it quickly into its box. "Well, this isn't a good match at all, is it? I suspect it would prefer a more incisive master than yourself, miss."
"We'll find you something. Not to worry," he resumed his former demeanor as he browsed the shelves once more. "Hmm - no, not you. Ah, perhaps - yes - a rare wood. 13 3/4 inches. Yew and dragon heartstring. Let's give this one a try," she picked up the bulkier wand, afraid the previous incident might repeat itself. Giving a wave, it exploded from her hold, causing parchments to fly around. "Ah! - Oh! Oh, my - Oh goodness," exclaimed Ollivander as he struggled to put it back into its designated place. "Looks like it's back to the shelf for you."
He sighed. "This is proving trickier than I anticipated. How perplexing. Where are you, perhaps you - Ah, there you are," he exclaimed in satisfaction when finding an old box from a higher shelf, then deftly used his own wand to levitate it into his hold. "Yes, I think you might be the one. Here, take it," he urged, enthusiastically.
As Eleanor studied the beautiful dark wand from one end to the other, she heard him say softly, almost reverently, “Black walnut and thestral tail hair,” Looking up to find the man staring directly into her eyes. "My family is not in the habit of working with such a pretentious core, but this is a gift from a friend who once tended a wild herd. He cared for a young spotted Thestral, rejected by the herd for its peculiar appearance."
Eleanor tightened her grip on the wand, lifting it slightly. A brilliant light flared from the tip, signaling that it had claimed her as its true master. Gerbold Ollivander drew in a sharp breath, "Extraordinary, much like yourself, eh, a little bit different from what the world might expect. Another wand, another beginning of a bright and magical future!" She tensed at his strange acknowledgment, but her worries quickly vanished as he continued speaking as if nothing had happened. "Now, how did that feel?"
"Good - different. I sensed a sort of surge of some kind."
"A match. Your connection seemed particularly powerful. The right wand will learn from you just as you learn from it." Gerbold replied cryptically. "Do not be surprised at your new wand's ability to perceive your intentions - particularly in a moment of need."
"That sounds quite wonderful, Mr. Ollivander," the girl said, excitement rising in her voice.
"I'll let you get to it. Do come and see me again if ever I can be of further assistance." With that, he returned to the counter, leaving her to her thoughts as she stepped out of the shop.
For the first time in her life, Eleanor Smith felt the tiniest spark of certainty. If a wand had chosen her, then maybe, just maybe, she could learn to find her place in this strange, dazzling world.