Wands and Everyday Life

Wands. An ocean of wands.

When Andrew stepped into the shop, the room, which looked like an armory, startled him.

"There are enough wands here to raise an army of wizards..."

He couldn't judge how many wands there were, but judging by the boxes in front of him alone, if each held a finished wand, the count had to start in the thousands.

While he tried to calculate the total in his head, a bell rang somewhere behind the shop.

Soon, an old man emerged.

"A new customer." He glanced at Andrew, then spotted Professor McGonagall behind him. His smile brightened at once. "Ah, Minerva, good morning. How wonderful to see you."

But the pleasantries ended before they began. The old man abruptly changed the subject. "Now, a brand-new wand—yes, that's essential."

"I'm Ollivander. And what should I call you, young Hogwarts student?"

"Andrew Taylor." Andrew kept smiling. "Do I choose my partner from among these wands?"

"Of course. The finest, most loyal partner you'll ever have." Ollivander's smile grew wider. Clearly, he liked hearing wands described that way.

"Wonderful." Andrew could hardly wait. He raised his right hand and sent out his Magic as he had practiced doing several times at the orphanage, then closed his fingers around empty air.

A long box stirred, left its shelf, and flew steadily toward Andrew. Over the final stretch, the wand passed straight through its wooden box and into Andrew's hand.

He gripped the wand firmly, as though it had always belonged there. A strange sensation traveled through it to him—as if he hadn't picked something up at all, but had suddenly grown a longer arm.

"Incredible."

Andrew murmured in wonder. He stroked the wand with his left hand, and Magic poured out of him like water. Instinctively, he pointed it at the floor. A stream of blue light spilled forth, and the floor instantly became grassland. Tender grass brushed the tops of his feet, soft underfoot, with no trace of what had been there before.

"It's perfect." Shock filled Andrew's face. "I understand what you meant now, Professor."

"Indeed," Ollivander said admiringly. "Perfect. One might go more than a decade without seeing such a close match..."

"Acacia wood, dragon heartstring, eleven inches... An exceptionally selective combination, and an exceptionally powerful one, Mr. Taylor."

"But speaking as an old man, I would still rather you didn't choose your wand this way. The other wands are merely less suited to you. When summoned by Magic, they try to break out of the boxes protecting them... That isn't good."

Professor McGonagall looked rather embarrassed too. Wizarding families normally told their children how wand selection worked. Students from Muggle families generally wouldn't take it upon themselves to summon their own wands. More precisely, children from Muggle families didn't consciously develop their Magic to the point where they could.

After a hurried apology, Professor McGonagall led Andrew away. After that little spectacle, she suddenly thought he might end up in Gryffindor...

That made her even too embarrassed to stay.

"Sorry, Professor. I thought summoning meant using Magic to find the wand that suited me best."

Andrew spoke softly. He genuinely felt ashamed.

He had read too many novels and assumed that summoning his partner meant sensing the wand most compatible with him through Magic. Who knew wand shops tested them by opening the boxes one at a time?

According to Professor McGonagall, they took measurements to narrow down what might suit a customer, then gradually unpacked and tested the wands within that range. What he had done was the height of bad manners: tear through a pile of packaging, pick one out, and leave delighted...

"It's not entirely your fault," Professor McGonagall said, remaining composed. "Now, it's getting late. I need to take you back. I have another family to visit this afternoon, and I must bring them to Diagon Alley to shop."

"All right. Thank you, Professor."

After dropping Andrew off at the orphanage, Professor McGonagall hurried away. Andrew had asked around and learned that not many students were recruited from the Muggle world—that was, the nonmagical world, as Professor McGonagall had explained. But at half a day per student, she would probably be a regular fixture in Diagon Alley for the next few days.

That wasn't a major concern for Andrew, who needed to go back there anyway. His most pressing problem was that he had run out of money.

Yes... no money.

Even secondhand books were absurdly expensive. That meant that, besides learning a little about the Wizarding world, he would have to keep laundering enough money for a second trip to Diagon Alley and the journey to London.

Earning Galleons to spend Galleons also had to go on his agenda soon. But given the price of reference materials, he decided to visit the secondhand bookshop again before deciding whether to pursue it.

All that could wait. Even studying his textbooks and learning about the Wizarding world could wait. Right now, he needed to return to his room and write down everything from the questions and answers so he could review it later.

"Andrew!"

As he carried his things and made plans, a voice that set his teeth on edge rang out.

I'm done for...

I got so excited going out this time that I forgot to buy food...

Sure enough, several little rascals came running over, their sweaty faces smeared with mud. Andrew gave them a quick look. They hadn't gone completely wild: their clothes were as worn as ever, but reasonably clean, with no sign they had dirtied them on purpose.

"Mother said a professor from some school took you away!"

"Yeah! She said you were getting hauled off to boarding school!"

"I wasn't hauled off. I was accepted. I went to collect my school robes and books." He raised the bag of books in his left hand. "Here they are. There are some loose things inside that could spill out, so I need to put everything away first and sort out my books. I'll take you out to play this afternoon."

After a moment's thought, he added, "Go play for now. This afternoon, you'll each get an Ice Cream."

The generous promise stopped the children, who had been itching to rummage through his things for food.

A chorus of "Okay!" rang out, and the lively little ones dashed off again.

"Right, better get this sorted." He smiled and shook his head, then began taking shorthand notes on the morning's conversations. Once he had checked them, he took a knife and some paste from a drawer. He was going out to play that afternoon, so he needed to put new covers on the Wizarding world books he planned to read.